Starting Over
by louella
Summary: My take on how Gene and Alex might rebuild their relationship in series 3. Final chapter now up - I hope you enjoy. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Alex crashed through the heavy double doors of the hospital and pulled a lungful of fresh, London air into her chest. Blinking, she looked down at her body, still dressed in the hospital gown, a cannula still attached to the back of her hand. She caught her breath, still panting from her run along the hospital corridor, and stared around her. The sun was shining brightly, warm despite it being November, and the street was quiet. Strangely quiet, really, the noise of the traffic and the bustle of the hospital sounding dull to her ears, as if she was listening from under water.

She looked down at her bare feet. That wouldn't do. She needed to get home, back to Molly and Evan, back to her sensible wardrobe of sensible shoes and sensible clothes. Looking up, she caught sight of a bus stopping directly opposite her, a bus that seemed to be headed straight past her street. Not stopping to think, she slipped on board, avoiding the driver's eye as he dealt with a gaggle of schoolchildren. She almost smiled; a DI dodging her bus fare.

Drumming her fingers against the back of the seat in front of her, she looked out of the window but didn't recognise the scenery. It looked like London – had that familiar mix of Victorian terraces, inter-war semis, municipal parks – but didn't seem to be any specific place she'd ever visited. Didn't matter, she told herself. She'd be home soon. Nothing mattered but getting home.

The rest of the journey passed in a daze, Alex waiting for some indication that she was nearing her destination. Eventually she heard the driver call out, "Glencairn Terrace, alight here for Glencairn Terrace." Nodding, she rose and made her way to the doors, stepping down when they opened, surprised to find herself standing directly in front of her own house.

She pushed at her front door and it swung open beneath her hand. Stepping cautiously into the hallway, she paused to look around her, drinking in the sight of the familiar staircase, the coats hanging on the hook behind the door. She looked again, surprised. The coats hung neatly, one on each peg, with shoes lined up in pairs on the shoe stand below. Not the usual jumble of coats, jackets, bags, shoes, scarves and hats that she never got round to tidying up. She smiled to herself. Molly and Evan must have been making an effort.

She brushed a hand across the newel post, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of the wood, but the sensation beneath her fingers was wrong somehow, almost as though her fingertips were numb. Her attention was caught by the picture frame on the hallway wall. She stared at it, confused. The picture was blank. Odd. It should be a picture of… of… She couldn't remember. What on earth used to be in that picture frame? Shaking her head, she continued along the hallway. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

What was that sound? Of course. The microwave pinging off. Alex made her way to the kitchen and peered slowly around the door. Her face broke into a smile at the sight of Molly sitting at the kitchen table, tucking into a plate of beans on toast, with Evan standing at the sink, a tea towel slung over his shoulder. Alex looked around, noting the tidiness, the fact that all the clutter of her family kitchen appeared to have been cleared away, leaving only Molly, Evan, the kitchen units and the large farmhouse table.

"Mum!" Molly's grin beamed across the room and Evan turned round, smiling a greeting in her direction.

"Alex. How are you feeling?"

"Um. Fine. Feel fine." She edged into the room, suddenly conscious of her hospital gown and bare feet. "How are things here?"

Evan sent a her a distracted look. "Just the usual. Molly hasn't finished her homework and is grumpy because Ryan hasn't called." He turned back to the sink, rinsing off glasses and plates.

"Evaaaaan," groaned Molly. "I don't care about stupid Ryan. And I'll finish my homework after my tea, Mum, honest."

"Fine," Alex agreed. "Of course you will. I'll just, er, go and get changed then."

"Kay," chirped Molly, reaching for a glass of milk and scanning an article in her magazine.

Frowning slightly, Alex retreated slowly to her bedroom, feeling somewhat out of kilter. She should be delighted, home at last, Molly and Evan safe in her kitchen, but she wasn't delighted. She was confused.

Reaching her room, she pulled a pair of jogging bottoms and a t-shirt from a draw and changed into them, taking care to avoid jarring her bandaged head. But the pain wasn't in her head, it was in her side, near her ribs. It wasn't surprising, she told herself. Bound to need a bit of time to recover. She looked across to her bedside table, where she thought she might find some painkillers, but the unit was empty apart from the small lamp and her i-pod docking station. She frowned. There was always a huge tower of books on her bedside table, as well as scraps of paper, lists for the day ahead, and a pot for her keys and small change from her pocket. Perhaps Molly and Evan had decided her room needed a de-clutter.

She sat on the side of the bed, pressing her hand to her temple. Tired suddenly. Faint. Slipping beneath the covers, her eyes sliding closed, she felt herself floating into sleep until she was suddenly jarred awake by a voice shouting at her, demanding her attention.

"Bolly! Bolly! Come on, Bolls, wake up. Wake up, Bolls. You need to wake up, and quickly."

Snapping back upright, Alex searched for the source of the noise, finding it coming from the i-pod speakers. Gene's face shone from the display, anger written clearly across his features. "No," she whispered, scrambling back onto the bed. "You're not real, you don't exist in this time."

"Bolly," he hissed at her, his gaze shifting briefly to the left. "I shouldn't be here but I have to tell you. You've got to help me. They're going to send me down, Bolls. You're the only one who can explain what happened."

Alex put her hands over her ears but couldn't drown out the sound of Gene's insistent voice, cajoling and bullying her, telling her things she didn't want to hear.

"Bolly. Bolly. Wake up Bolls. Get me out of this mess. That's a bloody order, DI Drake. Come back now."

"No no no no no," Alex mumbled, reaching for the i-pod, switching it off with a trembling finger, sighing with relief as Gene's face disappeared from the screen mid-rant. She flopped back onto the bed, pulling the covers around her, wrapping herself in a defensive cocoon. Everything was fine. Gene Hunt was just an overhang from her 80s coma existence. She was fine, Molly and Evan were fine, and once she'd had some sleep she'd go downstairs and everything would be back to normal. Her eyes flickered closed and she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

She wasn't sure how long she slept but she woke to daylight and birdsong. Smiling, she stretched and eased herself carefully out of bed, looking for Molly, but the house was empty. Alex picked up a note from the arm of sofa in which Evan told her that he'd taken Molly to school and they would both see her later.

Frowning, she sat down on the sofa, the note falling from her fingertips. She'd been shot, hovered on the brink of death, and now Molly was at school and Evan at work? Why hadn't they waited to see her? Why hadn't they seemed more excited about her homecoming yesterday? The pain in Alex's side had returned, leaving her shaky and slightly nauseous, and she sank back against the sofa, trying to quell the doubts that had been gnawing at her since she first awoke in that hospital room.

It's good, she told herself. It's good that Molly and Evan are carrying on as normal. It's proof that there's nothing to worry about, that there's nothing wrong. Yes, that was it. She'd only need to worry if they _weren't_ acting normally.

"Bolly!"

She jumped, eyes wide, staring at Gene's face as it flickered to life on her TV screen. There was a desperation in his eyes, a wildness that she hadn't seen before.

"Bolls. Please. You need to help me. You need to wake up. Please, Bolly. Just wake up, I know you can do it. You can do whatever you set your mind to. You're the only one, Bolly. Please…"

Alex watched from the sofa as the face disappeared, leaving her staring at a blank screen once more. Why did he keep appearing? Why wouldn't he just leave her alone, leave her to get on with her real life? She swallowed a lump in her throat as she thought about his words. She could see how the evidence would look bad for Gene, with his threat to kill her followed by the accidental gunshot wound that had sent her back to 2008. But it didn't matter, did it? Because Gene wasn't real. None of them was real.

She'd known she'd miss them, of course. That's why she'd written those letters. She wondered whether Gene had had chance to get his from her drawer before he'd gone on the run. Then she shook her head, reminding herself that of course he hadn't, because he'd disappeared as soon as she'd been shot, because he wasn't. Bloody. Real.

Biting back a sob, she allowed herself to think back to those last few days in 1982. She'd tried to make him understand, even told him her darkest secret, but he hadn't believed her, had accused her of taking the piss, of laughing at him. She knew he cared about her – he did care about her, he did – and she knew she'd hurt him with her answer. But she hadn't known what else to do. And now it was too late.

Alex's shoulders shook as she remembered that last encounter in his office. He'd looked distraught at what he'd seen as her betrayal. She'd wanted him to believe her so much, but instead he'd taken their _connection_ and thrown it back at her, accusing her of being cold, of not caring about Molly. Of not caring about him.

And she did care. The sobs that were wracking her body were evidence of that. She cared about him more than anything in her life apart from Molly. Hugging herself, swiping at her wet cheeks, she wished above everything that she'd been able to tell him.

Forcing an end to the tears, she pulled herself up from the sofa and looked around the living room. Like the rest of house, it seemed sparse, emptied of the junk and clutter that symbolised family life. Not like her home at all. Walking on unsteady legs to the kitchen, she decided she'd feel better after a cup of strong tea and a slice of toast.

After flicking on the kettle and pushing the plunger on the toaster, she sat at the table, resting her head on her hand. She refused to think about Gene's situation. If he was real, which of course he wasn't, he'd be having an awful time. He had shot her, after all. He'd feel badly about that. The psychologist in her told her that he'd be weighed down by guilt, over the fact that they'd argued, that he'd threatened her, that he'd shot her by accident. Gene wasn't the sort of man who handled guilt well. He'd turn it outwards, into anger and aggression. It was a dangerous combination.

His team might start to doubt him. Ray wasn't the loyal lieutenant he'd once been, and Shaz was sharper than she let on. Alex's heart ached at the thought. She wished she could help him.

She was pulled from her reverie by the boiling of the kettle and the click of the toaster. She'd feel better after something to eat and drink. She would. But as she finished her tea and toast, she admitted she didn't feel better. She felt empty. What had he said? Adrift. She felt adrift in her own home. If this was her home.

Wondering through the ground floor, she felt herself drawn to the small study, where years of accumulated paperwork had been swept away, leaving just a computer screen and telephone on a pristine desk. She knew she should like this new-look sleek and clutter-free home but it was all wrong. Almost as though it was the home she thought she'd want, rather than the home she actually wanted. Sighing, she sat on the small office chair and pulled herself closer to the desk. She stared at the computer screen. Where was he? What was he doing right now? The pain in her side grew stronger as she thought about him but her hand was steady as she reached out to turn on the monitor. Please be there, she thought to herself. Please be there.

The screen sprang into life, revealing the familiar wallpaper photo of Molly cuddling next door's kitten. She couldn't deny her disappointment. Sighing, she dropped forward and laid her head on her arms.

If Gene still needed her, if she still existed in some way in 1982, what did that say about Molly and Evan? She'd never been happier than in that moment in the hospital when she'd held Molly, told her that she loved her. The idea that none of that had been real was excruciating. She needed to get back to Molly. Couldn't bear the idea of coming so close and having it snatched away.

"Bolly," whispered a voice from the screen. "Can you hear me, Bolls? Shaz reckons you might be able to hear me. She's waiting outside, in case anyone comes."

Alex looked up and saw Gene's face, drawn and tired. Looked like he hadn't showered or shaved lately. She'd never seen him so scruffy. She wanted to hug him, but she made do with touching his face on the screen. "Gene," she murmured. "Don't know what I can do. I'm here and you're there. You'll have to do this without me."

"Bolly? Alex? Listen, love, I don't think I've got much time. I need you to wake up. I need you to help me but… I just need you, Alex. Please." He blinked and looked away before continuing gruffly, "Not sure I'll be able to come back again. They're after me, Bolls. So just in case you don't wake up… I wanted you to know that I'm sorry. About everything. And to say goodbye." The screen faded to black as Alex blinked away her tears, clutching at the pain in her side.

In a daze, she wandered back to the sitting room, picking up the photo of Molly that was propped on the mantelpiece. "What are you, Molly?" she asked herself. "What is this place? You need me but so does he. I can't just choose. You can't expect me to choose." She tucked the photo into her trouser pocket, gritting her teeth as the throb in her side became more acute. She needed painkillers and a lie down.

Struggling up the stairs, she made it to her bedroom before collapsing on the bed, curled on her side, tears on her cheeks. It was too much. Too much to think that Gene was in trouble and needed her. Too much to think that this wasn't 2008, that she wasn't safely at home with Molly and Evan. She pulled the photo of Molly from her pocket and stared at it through the tears. "I love you, Molly," she mumbled, clutching at the picture. "I love you and I'm sorry." She closed her eyes, thinking of Gene, willing herself back to 1982.

~ x o x ~

It was the smell that told her. The sickly antiseptic smell that identified hospitals the world over. Then the sound of the monitor, beeping steadily, annoyingly, in her ear. Prising her eyes open, all she could make out at first was the brightness of the light, blurred shapes coming gradually into focus. A drip stand, a TV screen, a chair. A person. She blinked, trying to make out the identity of the figure. Gave a small smile when she realised who it was.

"Shaz." Her voice sounded odd, rusty somehow. And quiet. She tried again, louder. "Shaz."

The figure in the chair moved slightly, then jerked awake. "Ma'am?"

"Shaz. Need the Guv."

"Ma'am, you're awake! Are you all right? Let me get someone, a doctor."

"Get the Guv."

Shaz looked at her feet. "Bit tricky that, at the moment. I know he'd love to see you but…"

Alex felt tired, knew she'd soon need to sleep. Time was short. "Just get him, Shaz. Please."

Nodding, Shaz replied, "I'll do what I can. But first I'm getting a doctor." Alex watched as Shaz hurried out of the room, then gave in to the fatigue and drifted off to sleep.

**~ To be continued ~**


	2. Chapter 2

"Bolly. Wake up Bolls. Come on, love. Wake up."

Rising to consciousness, Alex identified the quiet voice and blinked open her eyes. "Guv."

He exhaled slowly and tightened his grip on her hand. Shaz had told him she'd come round from the coma, that she'd been asking for him, but he hadn't been able to believe it until he's seen her open her eyes. "Back in the land of the living, then?"

She took a deep breath, taking a long look at her surroundings. Definitely the same 1982 hospital bed. "Think so."

She felt him ease his hold on her hand but closed her fingers around his before he could let go completely. He looked down at their joined hands and swallowed, wondering how to begin. Prioritise, Hunt. You'll be no good to anyone if you're under suspicion of attempted murder. Start there.

"I need your help, Bolly."

She blinked. "What's wrong?"

"Well. The thing is. Do you know what happened? Why you're here?"

"I was shot. Coma. Awake now, better."

"Yes. And you remember who shot you?" He couldn't meet her eye, didn't think he'd like what he'd see there.

"You shot me, Guv."

"I did," he mumbled. "I did shoot you. But they think… They think that I did it on purpose. That I tried to kill you."

"That's ridiculous. Why would they think that?" Tell me, Gene. Talk to me.

He shifted awkwardly in his chair. "No one else saw what happened. Well, apart from Jenette. And she's gone to ground, no one can find her."

"Even so."

Sighing, he caught her gaze briefly before looking away again. "There was that argument. The night before the heist. I shouted at you, said if you got in my way I'd kill you. Everyone heard."

"But Gene… They must know you'd never deliberately hurt me? Not physically."

He winced. Perhaps he deserved that. "Seems they don't, Bolls. Doesn't help that there appears to be no record of your dead mate, that Boris Johnson. Doesn't look good that I shot both of you. You need to tell them it was an accident. Otherwise I'm sunk, Bolly. They'll have me out faster than you can say dismissed without pension."

"Of course. Whatever I can do."

"Give a statement to a DCI Ward in Central & West station. Shaz'll give you the details. She's waiting outside now, making sure no one sees me here. I shouldn't be talking to you, might look like I was trying to pressurise you. But I just… well, I had to see you, Bolls."

Smiling, she managed a small nod. "It's all going to be fine, Gene," she murmured. "I'll speak to this Ward character, tell him everything that happened. You'll be free and clear. Please don't worry."

He nearly laughed at that. He'd done nothing but worry since he'd seen the bloom of blood on the inside of her leather jacket. Worry about what the team would think about him. Worry about the investigation into the shooting, what it would mean for his career. But mostly he'd just worried about her. How he'd deal with it if she never woke up. The fear of the future without her in it. The guilt. The unmitigated, unending, corrosive fucking anger. He frowned. "I'll stop worrying when I get my bloody desk back. Get to it, Inspector."

She squeezed his fingers. "I'm sorry this mess got you into such trouble, Gene. I know I shouldn't even have been there but I had to. You see I –"

"Guv. Ma'am. Nurse is on her way back." Shaz's worried face peered around the door, looking at Gene.

"Okay, Shaz. I'm off now. Look after her." He stood quickly, pausing at the door to look back at Alex before slipping past Shaz and away.

Alex took a deep breath as she Shaz hovered anxiously at the door. "Come in," Alex invited, waving a hand at the chair.

"You're sure you're feeling better, Ma'am?" asked Shaz, settling herself at Alex's bedside while the nurse bustled in and carried out the routine checks.

"Much better, thanks." The nurse scribbled results on the chart at the foot of the bed and departed quickly. "They tell me I'm lucky. Heading for a miraculous recovery. Can't say I feel particularly lucky."

"You look well. You know, considering."

"Thanks, Shaz."

"And the Guv looks a bit happier now."

"He should. I'm going to give a statement about the shooting being accidental. He'll be off the hook and back to bothering you lot again before you know it."

"I'm sure that'll be a relief. But it's not been the only thing on his mind while you've been in here, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"Ma'am," Shaz admonished. "You were very badly hurt. Looked bad for a while, we didn't know if you'd make it. You should have seen the Guv. He was bent out of shape with worrying about you."

"Well," Alex countered lightly, "it would have made the case against him worse if I hadn't pulled through. Murder is always worse than attempted murder."

"You don't really believe that, do you Ma'am? You and the Guv have always seemed so close. I know the two of you argued that night but…" She trailed off, uncertain.

Alex sighed. "We did. We did argue. Said things we shouldn't have. Things you can't un-say."

"Everyone was under a lot of stress that night, Ma'am. And the two of you fight all the time. Surely you can get over it, whatever it is?"

Picking at the hem of her sheet, Alex gave a small shrug. "Not sure this time, Shaz. He wanted something from me, something important. It was hard for him to ask for and I wanted to give it to him, more than anything, but he misunderstood, thought I didn't care. Now it's all gone to shit and I don't know if we'll ever get back to where we were."

Shaz sent a worried glance in Alex's direction. "It's not too late though, is it? You could still give him this important thing that he wants?"

"I don't know, Shaz," Alex replied sadly. "I hope so. But I really don't know."

~ x o x ~

Much to her frustration, Alex wasn't allowed to give her statement to DCI Ward until her the doctors gave her a reasonably clear bill of health. By the time she was permitted to see him she was climbing the walls, desperate to get out of her hospital bed, desperate to see Gene again. She could see everything so much more clearly now, could understand how her answers would have led Gene to believe that she didn't care about him. And she'd learned that she did care. The thought of leaving him stranded in 1982, unable to clear his name, never seeing him again, chewed away at her insides like a physical pain. She wanted things back the way they were before, on the cusp of something truly wonderful, not staring at each other with suspicion and resentment.

Thoughts of Gene competed with those of Molly. The week of waiting in the hospital had given her more time than she wanted to think about her daughter and the tantalising glimpse she'd been given of the return to 2008. She knew now that the whole awakening was just another vision, no more real than her existence in the 1980s, maybe even less so. But it didn't help diminish the guilt, the cruel feeling that she'd been so close and had chosen to walk away.

Eventually DCI Ward was allowed in to see her and he took her statement without much enthusiasm. She sensed he'd rather put Gene in the dock than clear his name, but given her unequivocal comments about the shooting being an accident, and the lack of any real evidence to the contrary, he could take it no further. He'd be formally cleared and back at the helm in no time.

Her statement given, hospital discharge paperwork in her pocket, all that was left was to wait for Chris to give her a lift back to the flat. She wouldn't miss this place. Checking her watch, she was about to give up and call a taxi when the door clicked open, her DCI walking in without knocking.

"Gene! What happened to Chris?"

You didn't think I'd let him drive you home after everything that's happened? "He's out on a call. Only me available."

She sent him a tight smile. "Well, let's get out of here then." He nodded and held the open for her, following her through the corridors and out to the car park.

The journey home, although short, was somewhat uncomfortable. She sensed that Gene still felt guilty over the shooting, even though she'd done her best to reassure him, and she wondered whether the team had been as forgiving of him as she had been.

She was aware there was a lot of ground still to be covered between them. They'd discussed the shooting but nothing of what had come before, their argument, his anger, the things he'd accused her of. She wasn't looking forward that particular conversation, but she knew she wouldn't be able to avoid it completely. It wasn't helping that he seemed so awkward, so on edge towards her.

Parking outside her flat, Gene insisted on seeing her up to her door. A box of fresh produce was sitting on the doormat, along with a small bouquet of freesias. Alex looked at Gene, surprised. "Was this you?"

He looked away. "Shaz did the shopping. I just gave her the fiver."

"Thank you," she murmured as he bent down to pick up the groceries.

"Least I could do."

She let them both into the flat, motioning him towards the kitchen. "Just leave it on the counter, I'll sort it out later."

"You've just come out of hospital," he sighed, exasperated. "Sit down, put your feet up. I'll deal with this."

Doing as instructed, Alex watched as Gene made free with her kitchen, knocking up a couple of bowls of soup, slicing a loaf of bread. She joined him at her small table, sharing the meal, chatting carefully, avoiding the elephant in the room. She was relieved at being back on speaking terms with Gene but the occasionally stilted conversation, the precise, deliberate phrasing, reminded her that their relationship wasn't where it used to be. She didn't want him acting fragile and tentative around her – she wanted him to be his robust, reassuring self. She wasn't sure they'd ever make it back.

Gene cleared away the dishes, leaving them in a pile in the sink. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Alex move across to the sofa, taking her coffee cup with her. What the bloody hell was he doing here anyway? He should just check she was all right, hand her a paperback and a box of chocolates and get the fuck out. He watched as she curled her legs beneath her, resting her head on her arm, tracing random patterns on her thigh with her finger.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't going anywhere, not as long as she'd have him. Whatever she needed. The shooting… it had brought everything home to him. Seeing her lying on those tiles, watching the blood seeping out of her, knowing he was responsible. For a brief moment he'd wanted to turn the gun on himself, but that escape was too easy he knew he'd have to stay and fight. So he'd stood and watched as the paramedics worked on her, avoiding the concerned gaze from Shaz, the accusatory stare from Ray, desperately hoping that she'd wake up, that he'd be able to tell her he was sorry, so unbelievably fucking sorry.

But she hadn't woken, and he'd spent 48 hours dodging the investigation into the shooting, sneaking in to the hospital to see her, pleading with her to come back to him. Guilt was eating away at his insides, at the fact that he'd shot her, that they'd argued so badly beforehand. He hadn't been able to think about what would happen if she didn't wake up, if she never spoke to him again. The irony wasn't lost on him. The number of times he'd snapped at her to be quiet, yet sitting by her hospital bed all he wanted in the world was to hear her voice again.

And then he'd think back to her voice on the tape, and the despair would hit him anew. The way she'd questioned him, doubted him, talked about needing to get away. He'd confronted her, had hoped, expected even, that she'd have had a ready answer for him, something that would explain everything, allow them to continue as before. And she'd given him that bollockshite about being from the future. Even now, standing in her flat, staring at her as she relaxed on her sofa, he couldn't push aside the pain. He'd opened himself up to her, admitted that she meant something to him, and she'd laughed in his face. He still had no idea what she really felt about him, and the way he felt about her was terrifying the living crap out of him.

He picked up his mug of coffee from the kitchen table and took a gulp. It'd been the best part of 18 months since she'd crashed into his station, turning his team and his life upside down. He'd wanted her from the outset, and even though he'd never really thought he stood much of a chance, he'd made a bit of an effort, tried to show her how he felt. She hadn't been interested, at least not back then, but over the last year or so things had changed between them, improved. Their working relationship had intensified, he'd trusted her with everything, wanted to let her into his life. He'd come close to letting her know, to risking rejection once more, then all this bullshit had happened and he no longer knew what to think.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked across to the sofa and took a seat next to Alex. "You going to be okay now?"

She nodded. "Still a bit tired. Should be all right after a bit of sleep."

"Best be making tracks, then." He didn't move.

"Suppose so." She paused for a moment, then set her mug on the coffee table and angled her body towards his. "Could you come back later?"

She was staring at him, her eyes clear, voice husky, and he thought he might regret it but he nodded nevertheless. "Got a few things to do back at the station. You get some rest. I'll be back this evening." He reached over and pressed the lightest of touches against her hand before letting himself out of her flat, pausing behind her closed door to take a swig from his hipflask. She was alive, she wasn't blaming him for the shooting, she wanted to see him this evening. It wasn't everything, but it was better than he'd hoped. Better than he deserved.

**To be continued**

**AN – thank you so much for the lovely reviews and the favouriting. I do appreciate the comments and hope you've enjoyed this chapter too.**


	3. Chapter 3

What time would he get here? Alex had managed a short nap before waking to a fluttering in her tummy, anxiety nibbling away at her, the sense that this evening's encounter with Gene would be the make or break of their relationship. Kill or cure. She'd tidied up a bit but was still tired after the surgery, her wound still ached if she pushed herself too hard, so she'd flopped down on the sofa, a glass of water in her hand and no physical outlet for her growing nervous energy.

It was ten past six when she heard the knock at her door and, giving herself a mental shake, she let him into her flat. He still looked guarded, taking a seat on the edge of her sofa, hunched forward, his hands hanging between his splayed knees. "Good afternoon?" she asked.

"Glad to be back in the saddle. Don't know what the rabble's been up to while I've been away – place was in chaos. Can't turn my back for five minutes…"

He nodded a thank you as she handed him a tumbler of scotch, edging along the sofa slightly to give her room to sit down, watching as she sat facing him, her back against the armrest and legs curled beneath her. She raised an eyebrow in query. "Have I missed much?"

"Few domestics, a burglary. Nothing out of the ordinary. Which reminds me…" He looked at her for a moment before reaching into his inside jacket pocket, handing her a small leather square.

"My warrant card."

He looked at the floor. "Shouldn't have suspended you. You were right about the heist. Should have listened to you."

Turning the card over and over in her fingers, she stared across at Gene's profile, his down-turned head. "Yes, you should."

He sighed, nodding slightly. "Never filled in the paperwork anyway, so as far as anyone else is concerned it never happened. We'll expect you back as soon as you're fit enough."

"Fine. Good."

"Good." He sat back and took a swig from the tumbler. "Fine."

"Look, Gene – "

"Alex, I – "

He gave a ghost of a smile. "Ladies first."

"No. After you."

Puffing out a breath, he turned his body towards her and caught her gaze. "How did you know, Alex? About King Douglas Street? If it hadn't been for the fire at the florist, they'd have used one of the other routes. It doesn't make sense."

Alex straightened her back and nodded. This was it. She was going to have to lie to him, to make the lie somehow more believable than she'd made the truth. She hoped she could pull it off. "The man you shot. Boris Johnson. He was involved in the heist, working with Carmichael's team. Set the fire in the florist to make sure the King Douglas Street route would be used. Thought it was less secure than the ones going on the High Street."

He stared at her. "Okay. But Alex… how do you know that? He said you couldn't be corrupted and I want to believe that, but why would he tell you where the heist was going down unless…"

"Gene, please believe me, I wasn't involved. I didn't know was Boris either until I saw him at the heist. Then everything seemed to.. I don't know. Fall into place. And what I couldn't figure out he told me himself, before you arrived on the scene."

"I'm listening."

"Boris saw me one day as I was going into the station. He… I think he wanted to date me. Sent me roses, asked me to dinner. I went once."

"I'm not interested in your love life," Gene interrupted bleakly.

"It's important, Gene. You need to know this. He seemed odd somehow. Talked about his glory days in the force, before he supposedly retired. Sounded to me like he'd been forced out. And he talked about how he was going to have one more day in the sunshine before bowing out. Didn't have a clue what he meant at the time – didn't much care by that point in the evening, to be honest – but it stayed with me."

"So Boris is a disgraced copper who was on the fiddle and thought he might get into your knickers in his retirement. I was right about you attracting nutcases."

She smiled. "Well. I might have attracted him. He didn't do anything for me." She sent him a quick glance. "Tried to give him the elbow, but he didn't take it well. Kept calling, trying to change my mind. Said he had one last thing to say to me, asked to meet me one final time. Told me he'd stop bothering me once we'd had this last conversation."

"You went." It wasn't a question.

"Should have known better. I mean, who arranges a romantic farewell at a building site?"

Eyebrows raised. "Building site?"

"Mm hm. Lafferty's building site. Only I wasn't the only one invited. Martin Summers was there too." Alex paused, the memory of that evening still raw. Gene turned to look at her.

"You okay?"

"It's hard for me, Gene. It was – it was horrible."

He made the smallest of moves in her direction, almost raised his hand towards her, but stilled as soon as he started. "What was horrible, Alex?"

"He – Boris – he…" She cleared her throat. "Boris shot Martin Summers. I presume Boris realised that Summers knew something about the heist. Shot him in front of me."

Gene ran a hand through his hair. "You knew who killed Summers? You've known all along? Chrissakes, Alex."

"He threatened me. Said he'd frame me, take me down. That he'd take you and Chris down with me. I panicked. God rid of the body." The words were dragged from her; the facts had been twisted to suit her needs but the terror she'd felt that night, the cold fear at having to dispose of Summers' body, was still horrifyingly real.

"You covered up a murder, Alex. That's not something you can just sweep under the carpet."

"I know that now. But Gene, he told me that he had friends in high places, that no one would believe me if I pointed the blame at him. It was a split-second decision. Hide the body or risk being framed for murder, risk him getting at Chris, at you. Couldn't do that, Gene." She bit back a sob and this time Gene allowed himself the luxury of comforting her, putting a hand on her arm, torn between sympathy for Alex's distress and annoyance at her failure to tell him earlier about Boris and Summers.

"You should have trusted me. I could've helped you."

She looked down at his hand, resting against her sleeve. Slipping her arm free, she took hold of his hand in both of hers. "Trust," she mumbled with a watery smile. "Such a small word. So important. Wanted to, Gene. So much. But I was scared and I didn't know what to do. And after that it all just snowballed, and I hated it. Hated being on a different side to you. Hated losing you."

A pained expression crossed Gene's face and he felt her hands tighten around his. "I heard you on that tape Alex. You didn't seem too worried about being on the other side then. Said you thought Summers could help you, that you had to get away."

Nodding slowly, Alex frowned. "Can't remember exactly what I said on the tape. But I do remember thinking that there must be a way to put Boris away for Summers' murder, that it would be a way of getting out of the mess I was in."

He was sceptical, but let it go. Wasn't really what was on the tape that was the problem anyway. Was the fact that she hadn't been honest with him when he'd asked her to. He took a deep breath. Couldn't look at her. "Why did you tell me all that bullshit about being from the future?"

This was the hardest part. Could she persuade him this time? Leaning closer, squeezing his fingers tight, she sought his gaze. "I was so scared, Gene," she whispered. "I'd brought this all on myself with my stupidity, and I could cope with endangering myself but I couldn't live with the idea that I might endanger you. And then you heard the tape and I thought you might be close to putting everything together, and I knew that if you did then you'd be as much a target as me. I just made something up to throw you off the scent. The first insane thing I could think of. I didn't mean to hurt you, Gene. You must believe that."

Gene sniffed. "I'm the Gene Genie. You didn't hurt me." But he didn't try to retrieve his hand from her grasp.

"I thought I could do it all on my own. I have never been so sorry about being wrong."

Angling his body towards hers, he let out a breath. "I'm sorry too. I'm trying, Alex, really, but I just don't know what to think about all this." He wanted to believe her, desperate to get back to where they were, and he hoped that if he tried hard enough he could overlook the fact that there were more holes in her story than in his Auntie Ethel's net curtains.

"You know," she murmured, "you hurt me too, Gene."

"Told you. You didn't hurt me."

She continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"You said I was cold. Do you really think that about me? It kills me that you might think that."

He pulled his hand away and rose quickly to his feet, catching his coffee mug from the table on the way up. "Got a proper drink, Bolls? Are you allowed a spot of vino or are you under doctor's orders?"

Sighing, she waved a hand towards the kitchen. "Help yourself. And fetch me a glass of water while you're there."

After fumbling around in the kitchen for as long as he could get away with, Gene returned to Alex, sitting heavily back on the sofa. He set the drinks on the table then turned to face Alex. Talking about his feelings never came easily, and it didn't help that he was still so unsure about hers. But he couldn't forget the crushing despair he'd felt as she'd lingered in her coma, the relief when she'd woken up. Could no longer ignore the insistent need beating away within him, calling out with every breath. He swallowed.

"Bolls, you have to remember what had happened, just before we argued, before I said all those things." He wished she'd take his hand again but she was sitting completely still, her eyes locked on his. He looked away. "I'd asked you to trust in me, confide in me, and you were still clinging to that bollocks about the future. So I lashed out, said things I didn't mean. I was angry, Bolls. I'm sorry. I don't think you're cold."

He heard her take a deep sigh, although whether it was from relief or disappointment he couldn't tell. He risked a glance at her and saw she'd wrapped one arm around the back of the sofa and was picking absently at the fabric. She looked tired and he felt a new stab of guilt at having hurt her, shooting her but also lashing out at her, aiming straight at the weak spots he knew would cut her the deepest. He stretched a tentative arm along the sofa back, taking her hand in his. Blinked as he felt her fingers curl into his palm.

She took a breath. "Jenette wasn't cold, was she?"

There it was again. The guilt. Not only had he allowed his head to be turned by a stupid little blonde thing, he'd chosen the very little blonde thing who'd gone on to put a gun to Alex's head. No one could accuse him of not fucking up in style. "Jenette was a mistake."

"Hah," she laughed, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "And they say you're all brawn and no brains."

"Look, Alex, of course I didn't know she was going to show up and threaten you. If I'd known that then I wouldn't have had anything to do with her. Goes without saying. But the rest of it – why shouldn't I have had a drink with her?" His stormy gaze cut right through her. "Why on earth would that bother you?"

She looked down at her lap for a moment before catching his eye once again. "What did you mean when you said you thought we had a connection?"

Giving a hollow laugh he dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. "You won't give an inch, will you, Bolly?"

He felt her tug on his hand, pulling gently him towards her. "You think this is easy for me, Gene? Think I'm not scared, not insecure? I have no idea what I mean to you. Drinking buddy, first lieutenant, pain in the arse. Because you have never given me any hint of anything else, and it doesn't matter how much I wish for it, if it's not there then I can't make it be."

Reaching across with his free hand, he traced a line on her cheek, cupped her jaw. "It's there," he replied, "it's always been there. But you haven't always been looking."

"Am looking now," she murmured, edging closer, slipping one hand on his thigh, running the other along his arm, curling it around his neck. She lifted her face to his, eyelids fluttering closed as he leaned towards her, sighing as she felt his lips brush gently against hers. "Gene," she murmured, pulling away, touching his face. She caught her breath at the fire she could see raging in his eyes.

"Bolly." One touch and he couldn't breathe, was burning with need for her, spiralling without end. He wanted to rip the clothes from her body, press her down on the stupid zebra sofa and not stop until she was shouting his name. He wanted to hold her like she was made of crystal, as precious to him as breathing. He wanted to know what she thought, what she was feeling about him at that exact moment. She touched a finger to his lips and he thought he might implode.

Inching along the sofa, she leaned into him, capturing his lips once more, a kiss of apology, of hope. It felt fragile, tentative, not what she wanted at all. Parting her lips, she slid her tongue into his mouth, swirling it against his, tasting him properly for the first time. Smoke and scotch and pure, 100 per cent Gene, she pulled him closer, needing more.

He slipped his hands to her waist, beneath her jumper, circling his thumbs in the small of her back. Her skin was so soft beneath his fingers, so velvet and warm, he wanted to touch every bit of her, every perfect, elegant inch, and he tightened his arms around her, urging her towards him. He was tumbling fast, spinning out of control, sense and reason falling away as he wrapped himself in her, her scent, her taste, her touch. His tongue was deep in her mouth, teasing at every corner, giving the promise of pleasures to come, and he shifted against her, pressing her body down with his, wanting to sink into her, immerse himself in her.

The fog clouding his brain took a moment to lift, his body trying to ignore the feel of her hands pushing at his shoulders, her voice panting his name. He lifted his head reluctantly, staring as she looked up at him with dark and dazed eyes, smiling but shaking her head. "Something wrong?" he mumbled.

"Want to," she breathed, "but can't. Hurts."

"Shit," he muttered, peeling himself away and retaking a seat at her side. "Sorry. Er, bit carried away."

"Don't be sorry." She wrapped an arm around his waist, rested her chin on his shoulder. "Not your fault. Just…" She waved a hand at her side, near her wound, catching her breath, trying to calm her raging hormones.

"Course. Yes. Erm…" He took a deep breath, hoping to clear his head, get his blood back into proper circulation. "Did they give you any idea how long it'll take to heal?"

Laughing softly, she shook her head. "They're not sure. Depends on how quickly the tissue knits together. Could be days, could be months."

"Months?" He looked aghast and she chuckled.

"Doubt it'll take that long. If it does, we'll just have to find a way around it. But I'll be out of action for a few days, at least."

He nodded. "Right. Few days. That's fine."

Reaching up, she traced a line across his cheek. "It's not a delaying tactic, Gene. I want this, I truly do. And we've already waited such a long time, we should be able to manage another few days."

Gene rolled his eyes. It was precisely because he'd been waiting for so long that he didn't want to waste another second. He wasn't about to force himself on an injured woman so would take the delay in his stride, but had no intention of giving her the chance to change her mind. He glanced at his watch – supper time. He could sate at least one of his appetites this evening.

He rose to his feet, stretching. "Bit hungry, Bolls. Fancy pasta?"

"Thanks, but I'm not really up to an evening in Luigi's." She looked up at him regretfully.

"I could bring something up? Unless you'd rather I sling me hook?"

She shook her head, fishing around in her pocket. "Pasta sounds lovely. Take my key." Watching his retreating back, Alex sank into the sofa, a hand at her lips, tracing the smile she couldn't seem to wipe from her face.

**To be continued**

**AN - thank you again for all the encouraging comments, I do value them. Oh, and please make like Gene and don't peer too hard at Alex's story - I'm sure a real DCI would see through it in moments ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so sorry for the long gap in updating - blame real life - I hope the next chapter won't be so long in coming. Thank you for sticking with this story. Thank you also to everyone who's reviewed and favourited the last chapter, I'm sorry for not replying, but see the earlier comment about real life :)**

o O o

Standing at the bar, waiting for Luigi to return from the kitchen with spag bol and tiramisu for two, Gene Hunt wiped a hand across his face, wondering afresh about the events of the past few hours.

This morning, as every morning since the shooting, he'd woken with a leaden sense of guilt bearing down on his insides, eating away at him, unresponsive to the usual cures of alcohol and work. Then he'd been given the news that he was in the clear over the shooting and he'd found out from Shaz that Chris was due to collect Alex from hospital and bring her home. His relief about his own future was dwarfed by the elation he'd felt about Alex's recovery, the fact that she was going to be fine, that he hadn't inflicted any permanent damage. Feeling lighter and taller than he had in days, he'd sent Chris off on a meaningless errand and hijacked his role as Alex's chauffeur, at once desperate to see her again and terrified of her reaction.

Stuffing his change in his pocket, he closed his eyes and pictured again Alex's face as she brushed her lips against his, relived the feel of her arms around his body, her hands on his skin. He'd wanted her for so long, dreamed of wrapping her compliant body around him, but the reality blew his fantasies out of the water and his hands were still trembling with the impact. Her calling a halt to their antics, although frustrating, was probably for the best – he needed a moment to collect himself, to make sense of what had happened.

She'd lied to him. Certainly about being from the future, but what about everything else? About being threatened by Johnson, about disposing of Summers' body? He wanted to believe her crazy story, ached to, knew he couldn't let her close unless there was trust between them. So as he drummed his fingers on the bar, muttering curses in Luigi's direction about how long it could possibly take to rustle up a couple of plates of pasta, his subconscious took the only option open to him: believe what she said, take it all at face value, and try to expunge his guilt over the shooting by not examining her story in any detail at all.

Luigi bustled into sight, a carrier bag in hand and a concerned expression on his face. "Mr Hunt. I am glad you are here to look after the Signorina. We were very worried when we heard what had happened. Didn't like to think of her alone in the flat."

Frowning, Gene took hold of the bag and nodded for Luigi to pour another measure into his tumbler. Downing it quickly, he slid off the stool and prepared to return upstairs. "She'll be fine," he muttered. "She won't be alone."

In the flat, Alex was also taking the opportunity to gather her thoughts. What the hell was she doing? She'd done what she had to do, what she'd come back to do. She'd given evidence that got Gene off the hook about the shooting, and she thought she'd persuaded him that she'd had no choice but to lie to him when he'd asked for her confidence. So shouldn't she be focusing on getting back again? Getting back to Molly?

Thinking about her daughter, Alex felt the dull ache of guilt in her stomach once more. Would she ever be free of it? Able to live a normal life in 1982 while waiting for whatever trigger she needed to get her back home again? Shaking her head, she feared it wouldn't be so easy. Molly would always be around every corner, calling on her to keep fighting, to keep looking for that elusive pathway home. And if she allowed Gene into her life, she surely wouldn't be focusing enough on her daughter.

If? She laughed dryly. Rather too late for if – the deed was already done. Closing her eyes, she recalled the feel of his lips as they brushed against hers, the smell of his skin, the sound of his muttered endearments. Her body prickled in frustration; she could no longer deny his affect on her, and her physical desires were engaged in battle with her emotional need for her child.

She put a tentative hand to her side, over the bandages that protected the stitches holding her bullet wound together. She'd been told how to change her own dressing but she wasn't due to have the stitches removed for another few days. A wry smile spilt her face. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed that she had this enforced cooling off period.

Her reflection was broken by the sound of familiar footsteps making their way up the stairs and then the click of a key in her lock. She smiled as Gene appeared in the hallway, nodding a hello at her before heading straight to the kitchen to unload the supper. She wandered over to join him, putting a hand at his elbow as she examined the plates. He sent her a glance. "Wasn't sure what you'd feel like. Went for the old faithful."

"Spaghetti will be lovely," she said brightly. "Just what the doctor ordered. Thank you." God, she sounded like Stepford wife. Get a grip, Alex.

"Great," he replied. "Sit down, I'll bring it over." He reached across for the pepper grinder, bumping into Alex as she leant for her wine glass. "Sorry," he muttered, jerking away.

"S'okay," she mumbled, feeling blindly for the glass before retreating quickly to the small table. She took a deep breath then pasted a confident smile on her face as he took the seat opposite her. The healthy gulp of red would need to work quickly if it was going to help disguise the awkwardness she felt.

They ate the pasta quietly, and as the silence grew lengthy, Alex struck up an absurd conversation about the weather. Gene grabbed it as though it were a lifeline. It was ridiculous, really, he knew. Okay, he had a couple of years on her but neither of them were exactly spring chickens, they'd both been around the block a few times. Both been married, for God's sake. Yet one snatched kiss seemed to have sent them both back to the fumbling anxieties of adolescence and he wanted to give himself a shake.

It was the tiramisu that broke the tension. Gene grumbled about the indignity of eating a birds' pudding while Alex teased him about having a soft spot for Luigi's home cooking. He wasn't sure if it was the wine or the company but he felt by the end of the meal that things were improving. They weren't yet where they'd been before – when they'd stood together in the face of Chris's betrayal, before he'd shot her, before she'd lied to him, before they'd let each other down so badly – but they were on the way. And as she giggled at the sight of him spooning a mound of the wobbling desert into his mouth, he felt able to relax into his chair and smile back.

His calm mood didn't last for long though, as he watched Alex lick away a spot of cream from the corner of her mouth. He shifted slightly, looking away. Would she always have this power over him? He didn't resent it exactly, but…

He got up from the table and began clearing away. Dishes clinked in the sink as he ran the tap, ignoring Alex's protests. "You've only just got out of hospital," he grumbled. "I'm perfectly capable of washing up a few plates."

"Well, okay. If you're sure." She carried her wine glass across to the sofa and sat so she could watch him bustling around in the kitchen, a tea towel flung over his shoulder as he washed and dried crockery, opening drawers and cupboards to put things away.

She liked having him in her kitchen. It felt right somehow. The trauma of the past few weeks shouldn't be swept away so easily by a scene of cosy domesticity, yet she felt completely at peace, both with herself and with him. She wouldn't forget Molly – would wake up tomorrow and Molly would still be the first thing on her mind – but why should that preclude her from living a real life in this world? And who knew? Perhaps she was somehow meant to deepen her relationship with Gene, follow her instincts and let him in. Perhaps this thing between them had been the key to getting home all along. For tonight, though, it didn't matter either way. She lay her head on the arm of the sofa and tucked up her legs, listening as he hummed tunelessly in the other room.

In the kitchen, Gene busied himself with tidying up, wiping down surfaces and cleaning the sink, playing for time. Eventually there was nothing more to keep him – the kitchen was cleaner than he could remember seeing it – so he poured himself the last of the wine and took a deep breath.

He wanted her. He supposed he'd always wanted her, even when he'd done his best to convince both himself and her that he was happy with her friendship, her professional respect. And now, just when she should be at her most angry with him, when by rights she should be ranting and screaming about his misjudgement and his singularly poor aim, it seemed she might want him too. His head swam at the thought.

So much could go wrong. Whatever was between them felt fragile, brittle, like it would shatter under too much pressure. He didn't want to scare her away before he'd had the chance to get close, but he was afraid that if they got entangled he wouldn't be able to keep a lid on the emotions he'd been smothering since they met.

Picking up the wine glass, he squared his shoulders and strode across to join Alex on the sofa. A wry smile crinkled his eyes as he looked down at her sleeping form. She was lying with one arm hanging off the edge of the sofa, a wine glass dangling precariously from her fingers. He eased the glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table next to his.

He kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie. Lifting her feet, careful not to disturb her, he took a seat on the sofa and laid her legs across his lap. She snuffled slightly and smiled before settling back into sleep. Turning his head, he stared at her profile, at the elegant curve of her neck, the softly parted lips. He'd never stood a chance. Every time he thought he'd become accustomed to her beauty she'd throw him a look, a smile, and he'd be floored again. He suspected she knew but it would never stand up in court.

His gut tightened at the realisation of how close he'd come to losing her. A heart-stopping moment, an instinctive reaction, too much pressure on the trigger and it'd nearly been the end. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "It was an accident, a stupid, stupid mistake." He rested his hand on her knee, tracing absent circles with his thumb. "I know you know I didn't mean it, but do you know how sorry I am? If I could change what happened, if I could swap places…" He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm sorry. Just so you know."

He leant towards her, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, trailing his finger along her cheek before pulling away. She looked peaceful, none of the nervous energy she normally wore like a prickly overcoat. He picked up her hand, long fingers tipped by blunt, mannish nails. He brushed his lips across her knuckle before resting their hands at her hip, their fingers still entwined.

Resting his head against the back of the sofa, he felt her lethargy seep into him. He hadn't slept properly for days, had been operating on adrenalin and desperation, but now his weariness was catching up with him and his eyes flickered closed.

By the time he woke again the flat was quiet, the sounds of the city receding as people found their homes and their beds. Sneaking a glance at his watch he saw that it was late, that he should be making a move. Rousing himself as carefully as he could, he slipped out from beneath Alex's legs and went in search of a blanket. He found one tucked beneath a side table and flipped it open, draping it across Alex's body, smoothing it along the dip of her waist, the flare of her hip, kneeling before her as he rested his hand at the crook of her knee.

He took a moment before nudging gently at her shoulder. "Alex. Bolls. Wake up, sweetheart." She scrunched up her eyes and turned her face away. He shook her again. "Bolly, come on. It's late, love."

She flicked at his hand, mumbling as she twisted towards wakefulness, finally opening her eyes and smiling lazily into his. She looked soft, fuzzy, and it was all he could do not to smother her on the sofa, cover her body with his and –

He smiled, rueful. "It's late, Bolls. Time I was off."

A frown creased her brow. "No," she whispered. "Stay. Not sleepy. Awake now."

"You're exhausted." He cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. "You need your sleep. Are you going to stay here or would you like me to help you to, er…" He coughed.

She curved her head into his hand but her eyes were pleading. "Don't go. Don't want to be alone. Stay with me."

He sighed, defeated. "Come on, then." Taking her hands, he pulled her upright and helped her to her feet, catching the blanket as she rose. "You get yourself off. I'll be right here."

She looked at her feet. "Oh."

"You okay?" Putting a hand to her chin, he lifted her face towards his. "What's wrong?"

"Just. Well." She shrugged slightly. "Come with me?"

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom, slipping out of her boots and under the covers, still almost fully clothed. Reaching out to him, he paused for only a moment before pulling off his tie, emptying his pockets and sliding alongside her. She sent him a sleepy smile before turning on her side, her back to him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, dropped a kiss in her hair and watched her sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Starting over – chapter 5**

Alex opened her eyes when she could no longer ignore the brightness of the light seeping in through the curtains. Groaning, she turned her head towards her alarm clock, the bright red numerals telling her it was approaching 10 am. Shit. She should be – oh. Flopping back onto the mattress, she remembered she didn't have to be anywhere at all. The ache in her side had faded from a sharp stab to a dull throb, itching slightly, but the docs had told her that was a good sign, and she smiled, hoping she'd soon be back to full fitness. Then her eyes widened as she remembered something else.

Turning her head carefully in the other direction, she frowned as saw nothing but empty space. She hadn't imagined inviting him to spend the night, had she? Dragging herself to full wakefulness, she realised she could make out the sound of water running in her bathroom. He was in the bathroom. He was in her shower. Something fluttered in her tummy but she ignored it, pushing herself from the bed and peeling off yesterday's clothes, quickly pulling on her robe as she heard Gene turning off the water.

Not wanting him to find her in the bedroom, she headed for the sitting area but paused at the door as she saw him heading towards her, towel slung around his hips, yesterday's shirt hanging open across his shoulders. His hand went to his shirt fronts, pulling them together. "Thought you were asleep," he mumbled. "Used your shower. Hope you don't mind."

She shook her head, swallowing. "Course not. Make yourself at home." Waving her hand in the direction of the bedroom, she stepped back to make room for him to pass. Not enough room, though, as he brushed against her in the doorway. Murmuring apologies they shuffled around each other until Gene reached the safety of the bedroom and Alex could relax as she heard the door click behind him.

Flopping down on the sofa, she closed her eyes and flung back her head. She could still smell him, a blend of her lemon shower gel and his own unmistakeable scent, and it should have been ridiculous but knew from the flipping of her stomach that it wasn't. Nor was the sight of damp tendrils curling around Gene's open collar or the expanse of chest beneath his open shirt. Not ridiculous at all.

In the bedroom, Gene sat heavily on the edge of the bed, buttoning himself into his shirt, trying to catch his breath. He doubted she'd meant to reveal quite so much flesh at the collar of her robe, nor quite such a length of shapely, elegant leg, but that didn't make the images any less eye-catching. He ran a hand through his hair, determined to stop thinking about Alex's mussed up hair, her sleep-dimmed eyes, trying to remember her bullet wound instead, the wound he'd been responsible for inflicting. It wasn't as easy as it should have been.

Telling himself to stop being such a soft flaming jessie, he finished dressing and wandered back out to the sitting room. She didn't look any less desirable. He cleared his throat, stuffing his tie in his trouser pocket. "Need to get home for a change of clothes, then over the road. I'm already about two hours late – phoned Ray while you were asleep, told them I was chasing up a lead. He knows better than to ask too many questions, but I can't stay out too long, need to remind them I'm still their boss." He looked at the floor for a moment. "I'd stay if I could."

She nodded up at him. "Course, yeah. Of course. They need you." He was patting his pockets, ready to leave. "Breakfast, though? You've got time for something?" Hopping off the sofa, she vanished into the kitchen, head in the fridge as she looked for provisions.

"I really should go, Alex."

She popped her head around the doorframe. "I've got bacon and eggs." Opened the carton, frowning. "One egg. It's yours."

He should leave, could only get away with being out of the office for so long, but she looked so vulnerable standing there, eyes pleading with him even as her face remained neutral. And there was bacon. "Thanks. Better make it quick."

It took her less than five minutes to fry the bacon and egg and make them into sandwiches, which she served up alongside mugs of strong tea. He liked watching her cook for him. Was this the first time she'd done it? They'd eaten together more times than he could remember, but always out – Luigi's, the canteen, a greasy spoon while they were on a job – never anything she'd made herself. He liked it.

She sat opposite him, making quick work of her own butty. She liked watching him eat. Why was that? Not just here, but whenever they ate together. He had such unabashed enthusiasm for food. Hearty appetites. What did that say about him? Or about her?

She snapped out of her daydream as Gene pushed his plate away, slurping down the last of the tea. He slapped his thighs. "Right then, Bolls. Ta for the grub. Best get back before they forget to be scared of me."

Smiling, she rose with him and trailed him to the door. "They're not scared of you, Guv. They just let you think that because it's easier than letting you know they like you."

Gene spluttered, "Like me? It's not the bleeding Brownies. Don't want them to like me. Want them to fear me."

"Well, they don't. But they do respect you. It'll have to do."

Sniffing, Gene nodded. It'd do fine, if true. He wasn't sure though, not since the shooting. Not sure of anything. He opened the door and was half way through it before he turned back towards Alex. "I'll, er, see you later, then, shall I?"

"Still not really ready for Luigi's, Guv. But you could come back here, you know. If you want to."

He sent her the slightest of smiles. "Kay. Yes. I'll do that. Make sure you're all right."

"I'll be fine. No need to fuss. But come round anyway."

Nodding, he reached out and gave her upper arm a squeeze. She swayed towards him, tilting her face up, her eyelids fluttering closed as his head dipped to hers. In a moment of indecision he wasn't sure where to aim, bumping against her nose as he finally managed to settle the kiss somewhere near the corner of her mouth.

"See you tonight, then, Guv," she smiled as he drew away.

"Have a good day, Bolls." He left abruptly, clicking the door closed behind him, pausing in the stairwell to wipe his hand across his face before hurrying down the stairs and into the Quattro.

On the drive home, his mind strayed back to the previous night, lying alongside her as she slept. Her face had been relaxed, free of the tension she'd been wearing so often lately, her breathing gentle and regular. She'd slept soundly, in stark contrast to him. He'd snatched an hour or two here and there but kept waking, unable to ignore the presence of the woman next to him.

The first time he'd awakened he'd tuned carefully onto his side, taking in her profile, the bump on her nose, the soft, slightly parted lips. Her hair was spread out across the pillow, close enough to smell, and he'd turned his face into it, eyes closed, breathing in.

Later, he'd awoken to find her curled into his side, her hand over his heart, one knee lying between his. He'd barely been able to breathe. Her body had been soft, warm, and it draped over his like silk. For a moment he'd just lain there, drinking in the feel of her, until he slipped one arm across her, pulling her closer in. She'd stirred slightly, mumbling something he didn't catch, her fingers moving gently against his chest, then she'd relaxed against him again. Swallowing hard, he'd ignored the surge of blood to his groin, opting instead to drop the gentlest of kisses on her forehead before carefully disentangling himself and rolling away. He wanted desperately to hold her while she slept but not like this, not while she was still carrying her injury, while he still felt guilty every time he looked at her. He'd closed his eyes tight, pulling the sheets high around his shoulder, and forced himself back to sleep.

His body had betrayed him, though, and he'd woken again to find himself lying on his side with Alex spooned into him. His arm had been dropped around her waist, his face against the back of her neck, his erection pressing hard into the soft curve of her bottom. Before he could stop himself he'd tightened his arm, flexing his hips into her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. His hand had pressed against the flat of her stomach, sweeping gently upwards, cupping her breast, stroking across her tightening nipple. He'd heard her sigh in her sleep, mumbling his name, and the sound had been enough to bring him to his senses. Allowing himself one more kiss, dropping it behind her ear, he'd whispered that she should go back to sleep then rolled away from her once more.

Sleep after that had been hard to find, guilt competing with lust, neither emotion able to strike the knockout blow. He'd eventually opened his eyes to find it was well into morning and he'd eased himself out of the bed and into the shower, horny and tired and miserable. He still couldn't believe she'd forgiven him. For the shooting, maybe, but the rest of it? Coming back to the present as he pulled up outside his house, he shook his head.

~ o ~

Rolling her eyes, Alex wondered whether listening to the Jimmy Young programme on Radio 2 was a bad sign – surely she wouldn't be listening to this rubbish if she was back at full strength? She'd take Jeremy Vine any day. She was relieved from the tedium at the sound of a knock at the door and was only slightly disappointed to see it was Shaz.

"Hello, Ma'am," Shaz announced brightly. "Guv said I could come over and see you, bring you a bit of lunch." She held up a paper bag and a can of Fanta.

"Thanks, Shaz, come in."

Shaz clinked about for a moment in the kitchen, emerging with a sandwich on a plate, an open bag of crisps and a glass of something fizzy and orange. Alex looked at it dubiously, but took it nonetheless.

"How are things over at the station, Shaz?" Alex asked. "How are things with Chris?"

Shaz looked at the floor. "He still feels badly about things, Ma'am, and people are still giving him a hard time. I wish they wouldn't. After all, if I've forgiven him and the Guv's willing to give him a second chance, why can't everyone else leave it alone?"

"It must be very difficult for him, Shaz. He's always been such a popular member of the team, it can't be easy finding himself out on the edge of things all of a sudden."

"No, it isn't. He's turned in on himself a bit. Not his usual self." Shaz sat on the edge of the sofa, plucking at the fabric of her skirt. Alex leaned over and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"At least he's got you. It's more than he could have expected. He cares about you a great deal, you know that, don't you? And he's been worried about whether you felt the same. Just make sure you tell him."

Pausing for a moment, Shaz sent a shy smile to Alex. "I do that, Ma'am. All the time. But…"

"What is it, Shaz? Is something wrong?"

"No, Ma'am. It's just… Well, I think you should take you own advice. That's all. Might help your own relationship."

Alex looked quizzical. "What relationship?"

"Exactly." Without giving Alex time to respond, she slipped off the sofa and carried Alex's empty plate and glass back into the kitchen. Rooting around for a biscuit tin, she called over, "Guv was looking a bit better this morning, Ma'am."

"Er… Really?"

"Yeah. He's been so upset." Her voice was muffled as she ducked down to look into a cupboard. "Ah. Gotcha." She carried the biscuits over to the sofa and took a seat next to Alex. "He's been ever so moody, you know. Even more than normal. Chris says he was even worse than when Sam died. But he looked more himself this morning. Happy, almost."

Biting on a digestive, Alex smiled and looked away. "I'm sure he's just relieved everything's back the way it should be."

"Mmmm," replied Shaz, unconvinced. "Not quite back to usual yet, though, Ma'am. How long before you'll be back, do you think?"

"Hard to say. Could be days, could be longer if there are complications."

"Only… The Guv needs you to come back as soon as you can," Shaz got out in a rush.

Alex waved an unconcerned hand. "Ray can stand in well enough until I'm fit again, and the Guv's got the rest of the team to look after him."

"Well, that's just it, Ma'am. I think some of them are still a bit suspicious. About what happened, you know?"

Bristling, Alex snapped, "But that's just ridiculous. The Guv would never hurt me on purpose. They must know that."

Shaz shrugged. "I'm sure they'll come round. They'll just do it a bit quicker if they can see you're okay, I reckon. That you don't blame him."

Alex sighed. "Well, I want to get back as soon as I can anyway. I'm going out of my mind sitting around here. And you can tell anyone who's interested that the Guv is back and they'd better get behind him or they'll have me to answer to."

"Yes, Ma'am," Shaz giggled as she rose from the sofa and headed to the door. "See you back at your desk soon."

The rest of Alex's afternoon passed slowly, with her alternately dozing and catching up with her reading pile. The pain in her side was manageable if she kept on top of the painkillers and she was already beginning to feel stronger. She'd stuffed her watch in her pocket as she was fed up of looking at it, wondering how long it would be before Gene returned. Fed up of wondering whether he'd worked out how much she needed him, whether felt the same. Hearing the sound of a key turning in the lock, she smiled and looked up at the door.

**To be continued.**

**AN - Thank you once again to everyone who's reviewed and favourited, your comments really mean a lot to me. Hope to update soon. Lou x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Starting over – chapter 6**

Gene sat in his office, door open, looking out across his team. Bolly's desk was empty, of course, the files distributed among her colleagues, her stationery lined neatly in a corner. Chris's head was down as he worked his way through a stack of paperwork. Shaz was on the phone trying locate a couple of reluctant witnesses. Most people were busy with something or another, or at least pretending to be. Ray, though, had got his feet on his desk and was flicking through a racing magazine. Ray was going to be a problem, and Gene wasn't sure yet how to solve it.

He knew the air of suspicion still lingered, and the painful fact was, he knew he deserved it. Bolly had worked so hard over the last 18 months and had, finally, been accepted by the team. What had Ray said? She was a pain in the arse, but she was their pain in the arse. So now they didn't know whose side to be on, didn't seem to believe they could support him and Alex at the same time. They never used to have these doubts.

Sighing, he looked again at his watch. He didn't want to be in the office, he wanted to be across the road in Alex's warm, bright flat, making sure she was still okay, taking care of her while she healed. Couldn't go yet, though, was still too early. Needed to be here, to be seen to be in charge. He watched the hands of the clock dawdling towards six, watched as his team members started to pack up and drift off, Ray among the first. By six-thirty he couldn't wait any longer, shooing away the final stragglers and pulling his coat around his shoulders on his way out.

He still had the key she'd given him yesterday but he hesitated for a moment outside her flat, wondering whether he should use it. Giving himself a mental shake, he put the key in the lock and let himself in.

"Bolly?" he called. "You here? I've got food." Making his way through the flat he spotted her, draped along the sofa, head on a cushion, feet dangling over the other end. She looked up at him, a soft smile on her face, open and trusting, and his heart contracted.

"Food," she grinned. "Perfect. You know where the kitchen is."

Clearing his throat, he disappeared to find utensils, depositing the pasta and salad onto plates and pouring them each a glass of red wine. Smiling to himself, he realised he was enjoying being in her kitchen more than he'd ever enjoyed being in his own. "There you go," he said, offering her the tray before taking a seat alongside her, a plate on his own lap.

"How was your day?" she asked, and he told her about the couple of minor assaults and the burglary that had arrived on his desk. Nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't tell her about Ray.

"So," she smiled at him. "Happy not to be on the lam any more? Back on the side of the good guys?"

He sniffed. "I've always been one of the good guys, Bolls. But yes. Glad to be back in the saddle. And what about you, anyway?" He raised his eyebrows in her direction. "Happy living the life of an idle housewife?"

"Hah!" she spluttered. "Hardly. Anyway, have to be married to be a housewife."

"Well, you're safe enough then, love," he said softly. He cleared the supper things onto the coffee table and turned towards her, catching her hand in his. "Are you sure you're okay now? No problems with your wound?"

"It's fine, Guv," she replied. "Really. It's healing nicely. I'm cutting back on the painkillers already."

"Good. That's good." He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't want you to be hurt."

"Well, yes, you should perhaps have thought about that before you pulled the trigger." He winced, but she softened her words with a dry smile and he gave a gentle squeeze on her fingers.

"You don't know how often I've wished things had been different," he said quietly. "How often I've wished I hadn't hit you. Just a tiny moment, an inch either way, and it would all've been different."

She stared into his unhappy eyes, trying to reassure him. She knew more than most what it was like to wish for things that couldn't happen, to wonder how things might have been. What she might have been doing had Layton been as bad an aim as the man in front of her. "Gene," she smiled, tracing a finger down the side of his face. "You can't keep wondering what if. I'll be fine, we'll be fine, as long as you go back to being you. I need you to be DCI Gene Hunt, Manc Lion and master of all he surveys. I need you to let it go."

He reached up to touch her hand, holding it softly against his jaw. Her eyes were dark, beautiful, and he felt himself falling as he leant towards her, brushing his lips gently across hers. Jesus, she felt so soft, so warm, he loved the taste of her, the feel of her skin. Her hand snaked around his neck, threading through the hair at his nape, and he opened his mouth in delight, groaning as her tongue met his.

"Bolly," he whispered into her mouth, sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, his head spinning as she sighed in response. He allowed himself to sink into her caresses for a moment, but as he felt her edging towards him, her kiss deepening and her hands tightening on his body, he drew on every last shred of his self control and gently pulled away.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he took hold of her hands and slowly came back down to earth. Letting her go was harder than he could have imagined, but he couldn't allow things to continue, not while there was still a risk he could hurt her. He looked up into her eyes, reading the uncertainty that was driving out the desire, and sent her a wry smile. "We can't do this, Alex," he said softly. "Not yet, anyway."

She swallowed, nodding. "Right. Yes. Not yet. Later."

"Later," he promised, pulling her into the crook of his arm, resting her head on his shoulder and dropping a kiss onto her hair. "Soon."

They sat quietly for a moment, but when Alex stifled a yawn Gene checked his watch and rose to his feet. "Come on then, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured, offering her his hand. "We need to get you into bed."

Grumbling a little, she allowed herself to be pulled upright, leaving her hands in his. "Will you stay?"

He puffed out a small sigh. "Okay. But on the sofa."

She pouted up at him. "Really? Bed's more comfortable…"

"Not for me. Not if you're in it."

Laughing quietly, she nodded. "Fair enough. Sofa it is. Make yourself at home."

"Will do." He bent towards her, brushing a kiss across her cheek. "Sleep tight, Princess Bolly. Sweet dreams."

"You too, Gene," she whispered, squeezing his hands before letting go and heading slowly to the bedroom, leaving him standing in the middle of the sitting room, watching her as she went.

~ o ~

They fell into a kind of routine for the next few days, with Gene dropping round after work, sharing supper with her, helping with chores, then spending the night on the sofa. He only went home to grab toiletries and changes of clothes, and although the sofa wasn't the most comfortable place he'd ever slept, he was enjoying the domesticity, the intimacy with Alex.

It was almost enough to counteract the problems he was still experiencing in the office. Ray seemed to be at the root of it; muttering under his breath every time he was given an order, a sullen expression seemingly painted onto his face, fuse even shorter than normal. Acting like a kid, and it irritated Gene even when he could see where Ray's doubts were coming from.

He was relieved to be approaching the weekend, Friday afternoon spent up to his elbows in paperwork, signing off on reports, reviewing case files. It wasn't his favourite part of the job but he wanted to be out of the office on time tonight. He wasn't the only one with dreams of freedom and by 5.30 he was the last man standing. One last look around the squad room and he left, wanting to get home. No, not home, Bolly's. Home. Wherever.

She heard him letting himself in before six and she smiled up at him as she slid a chicken into the oven. She was feeling stronger by the hour and had even managed to pick up some groceries on the way home from her doctor's appointment. "Hi," she greeted him with a grin. "Good day?"

He murmured something non-committal, as he always did when she asked him about work. She assumed he was trying to stop her from worrying about her open cases while she was recuperating. He needn't have worried – she knew her files were in good hands and she'd be back soon enough to clear up anything that had been left hanging.

Helping himself to a bottle of white from the fridge, he poured them each a glass and then sat at the small table, watching as she bustled around the kitchen. "You know you don't have to do anything special on my account," he fibbed, his mouth watering as the aroma of roast chicken filtered through the air.

"Wanted to." She pushed a drawer closed with her hip as she carried plates of salad and bread across to the table. "I'm feeling so much better today, thought it would be nice to do something normal."

"This is normal, is it? I thought a normal Friday night was a pizza and a pint downstairs."

Chewing on her lip, she shrugged. "Still not up to company, I'm afraid, Gene. Apart from you, of course," she added with a smile.

"Well, in that case, I suppose I'd better eat this rabbit food you're trying to foist on me." He faked reluctance but it wasn't so bad, considering.

They chatted quietly, easily, finishing the bottle between them, polishing off the chicken as well. She couldn't stifle a laugh when he leant back, plate finally empty, hands on his stomach, and asked what was for pudding. Shaking her head, dropped a plate of cheese and grapes in front of him. "What's the matter, Bolls?" he smiled, tucking in. "Got to keep my strength up."

When he'd finally finished they took coffees across to the sofa, making themselves comfortable, Alex lying on her back, her legs resting across Gene's lap. She smiled up at him through her lashes, mellow from the wine, and took hold of his hand. "You know, you've been brilliant this week," she murmured. "Can't have been easy."

He lifted her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss against her palm. "It's been torture. Hated every second."

"Well, naturally. Yet you've borne it so well."

"It's my forgiving nature and infinite supply of patience."

She tugged on his hand until he turned his eyes to hers. They were dark today, silvery, looking down at her with such an intensity she felt her breath hitch in her throat. "Seriously," she whispered. "Thank you."

"Seriously. It's been a pleasure."

She took a deep breath, then pulled again on his hand again, deliberate, dragging him down to her, until his face was just moments from hers. He began to speak, and she knew what he was going to say, he was going to make some excuse, find some reason for not doing what she knew they both wanted to. She put a finger to his lip, halting his words. "Gene," she breathed. "Please."

His head was spinning, blood coursing through his veins, but he resisted the pressure of her hand as it crept around the back of his neck. "Can't hurt you again, Bolly," he muttered. "Won't be able to hold back once we start."

Smiling, she shook her head. "You won't hurt me. I won't let you. And I don't want you to hold back."

Groaning, he dipped his head, pressing his lips against hers, feeling her warm and soft beneath him. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste of her, slipping his tongue into her mouth, wrapping his arm around her body. She sighed into his mouth, murmuring his name, and he could feel his heart pounding, his control vanishing in a cloud of white-hot desire.

"Bolly," he muttered, kissing a trail from her earlobe to the top of her shoulder. "Tell me to stop." Leaning closer, he gathered her to him, nipping gently at the column of her neck.

"Don't stop, Gene," she whispered. "Feels so good." Her hand slid around him, pushing into his hair, holding his head tight against her body.

He pulled her closer, slipping his hand beneath her jumper, groaning as he touched her bare skin, sweeping upwards to meet the silk of her bra. He squeezed gently, feeling her nipple pebble against his palm, and bent his head to take the peak in his mouth, sucking through the silk, scraping his teeth across the tip.

"Gene," she whimpered, her head turning from side to side, her body arching into his. "Oh, God, Gene…"

Lifting her slightly, he pulled the jumper over her head, gazing down at her smooth, pale flesh. There was a small patch of gauze just below her ribs and he started at it for a moment before blinking and looking away, to her generous breasts filling the sheer black bra, deep pink nipples clearly outlined through the fabric. "Christ, Bolls," he groaned, dipping his head to her once more, feeling her hands slide across his chest, pushing his jacket from his shoulders, allowing it to fall in a heap on the floor.

He pulled his tie from his collar, sending it to lie with the jacket, then helped her as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, shrugging quickly out of it. He groaned at the feel of her hands on his skin, fluttering across his chest, flicking at his flat nipple. Head spinning, his hands went to her waist, to the top of her jersey skirt, slipping it down over her hips, shuffling awkwardly above her while she kicked it away to join the growing pile on the floor. He fell to his knees on the floor, staring at her body, the dips and curves that had been tantalising him for so long. He could barely breathe.

"So beautiful," he muttered, reaching for her skimpy black knickers, groaning as she parted her knees, opening herself to him. He ran a finger across the silk, groaning as she squirmed in pleasure, then hooked his finger into the elastic, pulling them down her long, perfect legs.

His erection grew even bigger within his trousers, uncomfortable now, so hard it was almost painful, but he was determined that this would last, that she would enjoy it as much as he did. He pulled her around, one of her legs dropping to the floor beside him, the other resting on his shoulder as he pressed kisses against the inside of her thigh. He paused as he reached his goal, breathing in her scent, almost afraid to touch her in case he broke the spell.

Gently parting her folds, he knelt closer, her legs opening wider as he placed a gentle kiss on her clit. "Gene," she cried, her head flung back, hands scrabbling against the seats of the sofa. Closing his eyes, he allowed instinct to take over as he lapped at her, tongue tracing patterns up and down her, hands holding her close as her hips bucked beneath him.

"Oh God, yes," she called, her hands finding his head, fingers wrapping themselves into his hair. "Please, Gene, please…" Her heart beat wildly in her chest, pulse roaring in her ears as she panted for more. She was close now, his tongue working its magic on her body, and as he slipped a finger inside her, thrusting it back and forth, she exploded against him, shouting his name, blinded by the pleasure.

Flopping back against the sofa, quivering as the aftershocks raced through her, she opened her eyes and saw him looking up at her, hunger written clearly in his eyes. Rising up on his knees, he pulled her to him, his arms wrapped around her body, mouth against hers in a deep, warm kiss. She raised her legs around him, crossing her ankles in the small of his back, and he pushed against her, groaning as his trousers rubbed frustratingly against her curls.

She broke away for a moment, smiling. "Come with me," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

"Oh, I intend to," he growled, following her, kicking off his boots and socks on the way.

She climbed on the bed, turning towards him, and he took her face in his hands, kissing her mouth, her jaw, taking her earlobe between his teeth and pulling gently. His hands ran down her shoulders and around her back, unhooking her bra, leaving her naked to his touch. He groaned at the sight of her, cupping her breasts in his palms and feeling their weight, rubbing his thumbs across the tight peaks. "Beautiful, Bolly," he murmured, "always knew you'd be beautiful."

Her hands were at his waist, pulling his belt through the loops, popping the button, lowering the zip. She pushed down his trousers and shorts in one movement, eyes widening as she took in the sight of his solid, hard cock. Dropping to her knees, she took a firm hold, pumping slowly with one hand, the other reaching beneath to cup his balls. She lowered her head and ran her tongue around his tip, teasing him, smiling at his muttered curses and threats, the way his fingers gripped and flexed against her shoulders.

Opening her mouth wider, she took him deep, sucking hard, sending waves of pleasure through him that almost knocked him from his feet. He felt his control slipping away, unequal to the onslaught of sensation she wreaked with her hands and her tongue. But he wanted more, needed more, and he pulled her away, capturing her lips as joined her on the bed, laying her flat, sliding above her.

He positioned himself between her legs, catching her hands above her head in one of his as he looked down at her, seeing the desire in her dark eyes, the soft fullness of her lips. His own eyes must have been asking a question because she nodded, raising her knees, tilting her hips in an unmistakeable invitation.

"Alex," he whispered as he slid into her, filling her, losing himself for a moment before beginning to thrust, his head buried against her shoulder, arms holding her tight.

She pushed her feet against the mattress, rising to meet his every thrust, her breath coming in shorter, faster gasps. "Yes," she cried, "so good, more." He nipped on her shoulder before bending lower, taking her breast in his mouth, sucking hard. Desire flooded through her, tipping her over the edge, and she tightened around him, grasping at his shoulders as she called out his name.

"Bolly," he grunted, straining as he pounded into her, his body on fire with lust as he crashed into her, coming in a hot stream, over and over again.

He collapsed onto her, sweat beading across his body, trying to regain his breath, waiting for his pulse to return to normal. Feeling her wriggling a little beneath him, he rolled to his back, pulling her with him so she was curled against his side, her head tucked under his chin, his hand covering hers against his chest. "Well," she murmured as her body stilled, the pleasurable glow still warming her from top to toe. "That was worth waiting for."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Never had any doubts, Bolls," he sniffed.

"Course not." Lifting her head, she smiled down at him, dropping a gentle kiss on his lips. "Staying here tonight, then? Not going to disappear across to the sofa?"

Smiling lazily, he hugged her close. "Staying here," he agreed, closing his eyes and sinking into the pillow. "Long as you'll have me."

**To be continued**

**~ o ~**

**AN - thank you for the great reviews and the favouriting, it's always great to get your feedback. Please do leave a comment.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you once again for all the lovely reviews and comments about this fic - I'm glad you're enjoying the story and really pleased you've stuck with it. Hope you like this next chapter.**

**Starting over – chapter 7**

The pop of the champagne cork caught her unawares and she giggled at the shock of it, trying to catch the fizzing liquid in her glass before too much of it escaped onto Luigi's tiled floor. It was her first trip downstairs since the shooting, the first time she'd felt up to socialising, but as soon as she set foot in the bar she realised how much she'd missed it, wishing she'd made the effort to come sooner.

"Great to have you back, Ma'am," Ray told her, topping up her glass before moving on to his own.

"Glad to be back," she murmured, surveying the crowd of smiling faces, the whole team here, apparently to mark her return from isolation. "It's lovely to see everyone again."

"Aye," replied Ray. "You've been missed, all right. We've all been looking forward to you getting back. Well, nearly all." He threw a dark look at Gene before moving aside to allow the others to give Alex their best wishes.

Shaz's enthusiastic greeting nearly knocked Alex off her feet, pushing Ray's cryptic comment from her mind, and she was soon engulfed in good wishes and kind words. She'd had no idea the team would be so happy to see her back and was delighted and moved by the scale of their welcome. Twirling from one smiling face to another, she spent the best part of an hour reassuring people about her health and telling them how close she was to complete recovery. Eventually tiring of being at the social centre, she sought refuge in a seat in a corner, dragging Shaz along to sit with her.

"You sure you're all right now, Ma'am?" Shaz queried softly.

"Really, I'm fine. Couldn't be better. Just still a bit tired, that's all."

"Well, you do look well," she agreed. "Will you be back in the office soon?"

"I certainly hope to be back at work in the not too distant future, yes."

"That's good," smiled Shaz. "The Guv'll be delighted to get you back."

Raising an eyebrow, Alex took a swig from her wine glass. Gene was on the opposite side of the room, chatting to Viv, looking more at ease than she could remember seeing him. In the ten days since they'd first made love, they hadn't spent a night apart. Somewhat to her surprise, and, she admitted, her relief, he hadn't wanted just a one night stand. The opposite, in fact – the more time they spent together, the more intensely he acted towards her. And she loved it. Despite all her modern sensitivities, her hard-fought independence, she revelled in Gene's all-consuming desire for her, the way he made her feel utterly wanted, cherished, possessed.

She'd been worried about the team seeing them together, that they'd guess there was something going on, but she'd done her best to act normally, as though she hadn't been welcoming Gene into her bed every night. They hadn't talked about it, but Alex assumed that Gene wouldn't want everyone knowing his private business, and what he and Alex got up to after hours definitely counted as private business. So she was being careful to keep up the pretence, none of the easy touches or intimate glances that had become second nature, no flirting, no overt warmth. She thought they were getting away with it, but it wasn't easy and she hoped they wouldn't have to keep their relationship hidden for too long.

Turning her attention back to Shaz, Alex shrugged. "I'm sure the Guv'll cope, whether I'm at my desk or not."

"If you say so, Ma'am," Shaz countered slyly. "But I still think he'll be happier when you're back by his side, where he wants you to be."

Pressing her lips together, Alex wasn't too sure how to respond. In the event she was saved by Chris, who came across to sweep his woman back into the crowd. Alone at the table, Alex realised she was growing tired, still not fully recovered from the effects of her injury. She took the opportunity to slip quietly away, stopping alongside Gene for a moment, whispering something quickly in his ear, before making for the exit and the sanctuary of her flat.

Watching as her heels disappeared on the stairs, Gene felt a pang at her departure. He'd been delighted that she was feeling ready to face people again, to socialise with the team, and she'd looked so beautiful at the centre of everyone's attention. Even though he'd spent the last ten days getting to know her body in the closest detail, he still caught his breath at the sight of her elegant features, her amazing curves. He still couldn't quite believe she wanted him, that she felt the same desperate need felt for her. But, miraculously, she hadn't kicked him out yet and he had no intention of giving her any reason to any time soon.

He couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment about her reserve this evening, though. He knew, of course, that she still wasn't feeling one-hundred percent, that she was a little nervous about resuming the social whirl with the Fenchurch East team, but he'd hoped, secretly, that she'd take the opportunity to let people know about their relationship.

She'd looked so good this evening, absorbing the team's good wishes with her usual grace, shining as the centre of attention, and he'd been struck by an absurd feeling of pride. He was proud of her, proud that she'd chosen to let her barriers down with him, but there was little justification for pride when their fling, or whatever it was, was still secret.

Of course, there was also the raging jealousy that burned in his gut whenever another man got near her. He'd thought it might have got easier now that he'd had her, but if anything the jealousy was actually more acute, making him more anxious as now had so much more to lose. He wanted everyone to know she was with him, that she was his, so that they knew there was no point trying anything on with her. But she was being so careful, detached almost, that he gathered she'd rather keep things secret for now. He would accept her wishes, of course, respect her desire for privacy, but it wasn't easy and he didn't know how long he'd be able to keep it up.

Half an hour later, after downing one last pint and exchanging a few friendly words with Viv, he made a discreet departure, slipping up the stairs while the team's attention was captured by Chris and Shaz's enthusiastic if tuneless rendition of Save Your Love.

Alex heard him on the stairs and let him in, sliding her arm around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss before he'd even made it through the door. "Been wanting to do that all night," she murmured into his mouth.

"Thought you were tired," he smiled, kicking the door closed behind them and pulling her into his body.

"Mmm," she agreed, nipping his jaw, "exhausted. Better get straight to bed."

"Right you are." He followed her to the bedroom, both of them shedding clothes along the way, so that by the time they hit the bed they were naked, arms and legs entwined, hands and mouths exploring with abandon.

"Love the way you taste, Bolly," he muttered, licking his way down her neck, pulling her tight nipple deep into his mouth. Easing her onto her back, he continued his journey down her body, kneeling between her legs, pressing kisses against her stomach, the inside of her thighs.

She was completely open to him and he breathed her in, the scent of her sending him spiralling. He'd never get used to this, the sight of her beautiful body, the way she squirmed beneath his fingers, his tongue. Bending closer, he swirled his tongue around her sensitive nub, smiling as her hips bucked towards him, her cries of desire filling his ears. He loved this, loved making her come, knowing that he could bring her to the peak of pleasure and beyond. She was pleading now and he slipped two fingers inside her, thrusting slowly, sucking hard until he felt her tighten against him, gasps and moans spilling from her lips as she crashed over the edge.

He gave her a moment before moving back up her body, taking her face in his hands as he pressed his lips against hers. "Gene," she sighed, "you're so good to me."

Smiling, he nuzzled against her throat, pressing his body close against hers. "My turn," he growled, the ache in his balls now a driving need.

"Seems fair," she mumbled, pulling him in for a lazy kiss before running her hands down his chest, taking his solid length in her grip. She loved his body, the strength in his shoulders, the length of his legs, and he hadn't disappointed in at any point in between. Pumping slowly, rubbing a soft thumb across his tip, she moaned as he thrust towards her, as he muttered her name.

"Want you, Alex," he grunted, slipping away from her grasp and raising up on his knees. He flipped her over, pulling her hips upwards, sliding into her in one thrust. He filled her completely and she gasped his name, pushing back against him, her hands flat on the mattress as she sought to take his whole length.

"God, Gene, so good." He bent low over her, pulling her back against his chest, one hand skimming the length of her body, lingering at her full, aching breast. Biting gently on her shoulder, he rubbed a thumb across her nipple, murmuring her name as she panted out her need.

He groaned as she twisted her hips against him, whispering, "Soon, Alex ," into her ear. She reached down her body, stroking herself, sending herself flying into orbit as he flooded into her with a cry of pure release.

Panting and sweating, they collapsed together to the mattress, twisting until she was nestled comfortably in his arms. She stared up at him through smudged lashes. "Have you been practising?"

"Only with you," he murmured, dropping a kiss against her temple. "Although I prefer to think of it as perfecting the technique."

Laughing softly, she kissed his chest. "I'm available for training sessions any time you like," she smiled, curling into him as she felt him slip quietly into sleep.

~ x ~

"Right you lot." Gene strode into the squad room, surveying the team, trying not to be distracted by Alex's empty desk. "We've got some intelligence on a major drug deal that will be going down on our patch within the next couple of weeks. Big time, expensive, dangerous. We know the importer is one Sniffer McHarris, previously small scale but now apparently moving into the big league. What we're less clear on is who is doing the buying. We know they frequent the Six Bells at Whitechapel, we know there's more than one of them, but beyond that it's guesswork. That's where you lot come in."

Gene paused and looked around the team. Chris and a few others were taking notes, most were looking attentive. Once again, though, Ray's attention had gone awol. Sighing inwardly, Gene continued, "We need to recce the location where we think the deal's going down. We need background on the individuals we know or suspect are involved. We also need to work out if we can infiltrate the gang we think are behind the purchase of the drugs."

A sea of nodding heads stared back at him, just one permed head staying still. Gene knew this was a sensitive operation with some tricky activity to be undertaken before they could claim a successful result. He desperately wished for Alex's insight, her confident analysis, but instead he was going to have to rely on Ray and the team. It wasn't an encouraging prospect.

"Shaz, you get onto records, see what we can find out about the known individuals. Chris, Frank, you get out to the location, bring back a report on the lie of the land, including information about places for stakeouts and the take down. Ray, I want you to get in with the locals at the Six Bells, see what you can find out about the buyers. Everyone else in support as and when. All clear?"

A chorus of "yes Guvs" rang out across the squad room as the team set to work on their assigned tasks. Gene watched as Ray got slowly to his feet, but instead of coming towards him for a more detailed briefing, he turned away and headed towards the doors. Gene bristled. "Carling! A word."

Ray made his way sullenly into Gene's office, picking up his notebook along the way. "What can I do for you, Guv?" he asked, shuffling a little, avoiding Gene's gaze.

"What you can do is take your thumb out of your arse and start behaving like a Detective Sergeant."

"Don't know what you mean, Guv." Ray stared through the office window at a point beyond the rear wall.

"I think you do, Ray. I need everyone on top form with this, and that includes you. If you've got a problem with my orders, you come and talk to me about it. Otherwise, just do your job and do it properly. Got it?"

"Yes, Guv." Muttering something under his breath, he turned and walked out, Gene's eyes following him warily as he made his way back to his desk.

~ x ~

Later that evening, after a cursory drink with the team, he slipped up the stairs to Alex's flat. She welcomed him with an enthusiastic kiss before serving up a plate of sausage and mash with a scotch on the side. He supposed he ought to worry about getting used to such domesticity, that he might start taking it for granted just at the moment when she decided to pull the rug out from under him, but there was no point denying it to himself – he loved coming to see her, preferred her place to his, felt that a visit to her flat was like coming home.

He couldn't seem to get enough of her. Just the smell of her, the strawberry thing she used in the shower, was enough to turn him on. It didn't help that she was so open to his advances; not once had she turned him away, pleaded a headache or being not in the mood. In fact, she'd initiated matters on more than one occasion herself. Such a contrast to his missus, who'd had to be wined and dined before every begrudging encounter. He still couldn't believe his luck.

This evening, she'd sunk to her knees in front of him, drawing him into her willing mouth, sucking him with a passion beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Her hands had wrapped around him, smoothing along his length even while her tongue circled his rim, cupping and stretching his balls, driving him past the point of no return until he exploded into her throat, pulsing into her over and over, until he collapsed, spent, against the sofa. Once he'd recovered he'd led her back to the bedroom and returned the favour, licking and nibbling until she thrashed beneath him, shouting his name, begging for release. He'd kept her at the brink for as long as he could, bringing her close time and again before easing away, until she eventually tipped over, thrown headlong into a climax that sent her spinning.

They lay curled together in the darkness, Alex's breathing gradually slowing to its normal pace, her head resting sleepily against Gene's shoulder. She peeked up at him for a moment, then nuzzled back into his body. "Gene," she murmured. "You've still got my spare key, haven't you?"

He looked down at her, questioning. "Yes. You know I have."

"Good." She pressed a kiss against his chest. "I like you having a key."

Hugging her closer, he told her, "I like having a key. Keep hoping that one day I'll surprise you in the shower."

"You know, you could bring a few of your bits over. Just so you don't always have to trek back to yours ever day. If you want to. Not to worry if you don't."

He tilted her head up to his and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. "I'll do that." He thought for a moment. "The team was happy to see you this evening," he told her. "They're looking forward to having you back."

She gave a non-committal mumble, adding, "Don't really want to rush back, Gene. Enjoying my recuperation."

Chuckling softly, he asked, "Do you know when you might be up to rejoining the team?" He hoped she couldn't tell how anxious he was for her return, how much he needed the team to see that she was solidly behind him. Despite his impatience, he genuinely wanted her to take as much time as she needed before coming back; rushing back to work before she was ready wouldn't help anyone. He just wanted her to be ready soon.

"Well," she whispered, "I wanted to talk to you about that."

"What do you mean?" He twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers.

"I was wondering whether I should think about transferring out."

He froze, a frown chasing across his features. "Why would you want to do that?"

Snuggling closer, she smiled into his chest. "I don't know how well we'd work together, now this has happened." She fluttered a hand around their entwined bodies. "If I'm honest, I don't know if I'll be able to go back to taking professional orders from you now I've seen you naked."

"I wouldn't worry about that," he mumbled. "You never took orders from me before." He tried not to worry, to take comfort from the fact that she thought their relationship was serious enough to consider upending her employment situation to protect it. But he couldn't counter his dismay at the thought of not seeing her every day at the office, not working alongside her. A cold panic engulfed him at the thought of her drifting away from him if she worked with other people. "Anyway," he went on. "We don't have to decide now, do we?"

"Course not," she mumbled sleepily, relaxing into his arms. He nodded and held onto her tightly, not letting go until he was sure she was completely asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so sorry for the delay in updating this fic – thanks for sticking with it. So long has been the gap I thought it might be useful to include a short summary of the story to date.**

**Summary**

**Alex has awoken from her coma-within-a-coma and returned to 1982. She's persuaded Gene that she invented her story about being from the future to protect him and the team from Martin Summers and Gene has decided to believe her. Gene and Alex have entered the early stages of a relationship, but it's still a secret from the team. Alex is considering whether she should transfer to a new division when she returns to work. She has cleared Gene about the shooting and he has retaken his position in Fenchurch East. The team is setting up an operation to take down drugs importer Sniffer McHarris and his buyers, a team working out of the Six Bells pub. Ray, who has been showing signs of discontent about Gene's leadership, has been working undercover at the Six Bells to find out more. **

**Starting over – chapter 8**

Gene sat in his office, staring out across his team. He was nervous about tomorrow night, about the operation to snare Sniffer McHarris and the other dealers. He trusted his team, but did they trust him? He guessed he'd find out soon enough.

Gulping at his coffee, he turned his attention to a piece of paper in the centre of his desk. Alex's transfer request. He sighed. It'd been about a week since she'd first raised the idea of moving to another division and no amount of sulking, charming or arguing with her had changed her mind. She was adamant that she couldn't work with him while she was sleeping with him. And as he didn't want her to stop sleeping with him, it didn't leave him with much alternative. Didn't stop him hating the idea of her bonding with another team, of some other DCI giving her orders, sending her into dangerous situations. His stomach tight, he signed her request and put it in the out tray.

There was a knock on the office's open door and as Gene looked up at Ray. "All set for tomorrow?"

"Yes, Guv." Ray stood awkwardly in the door frame. "Blue team will take Smithy, Red team will take Carter."

"And I'll be leading the Blue team, with you as back up."

"Yes Guv."

"And Chris'll lead the Red team, with uniform back up."

"Yes Guv."

Gene nodded. "Good. You're sure your cover wasn't blown?"

"Sure as I can be, Guv."

"Excellent, good man." Gene looked up at Ray, who was hovering in the doorway. "Anything else?"

After a pause, Ray came forward and sat at the chair opposite Gene's desk. "You haven't changed your mind, then?"

Gene sighed. He'd been afraid of this. "No, Ray. I haven't. The op will run as planned, with the focus on Smithy. Carter is the secondary target. Got to be that way."

"But Guv –"

"But nothing, Ray. I'm still your DCI and I've made my decision on this. Your intelligence from the Six Bells has been spot on, we couldn't have got this far without it. But my gut tells me that Smithy's the ringleader and Carter's just small fry. Smithy's the one we need. We focus on him."

Ray drummed his fingers on the table and for a moment Gene worried that they'd have to go through the whole argument yet again. But Ray gave a small nod and stood up, muttering, "Right, Guv," as he left.

Watching as Ray sloped back to his desk, Gene picked up the report on tomorrow evening's operation. Ray's work at the Six Bells had revealed the two individuals involved in the deal with Sniffer, one known as Horseshoe Smithy and the other Nick 'The Flick' Carter. He'd come across Carter before and was convinced he didn't have the nouse to pull off a major deal like the one planned. Horseshoe Smithy, on the other hand, was more of an unknown quantity, and Gene was certain he must be the ringleader. Ray disagreed, arguing that Carter was pulling the strings and should be the focus of the op, but he hadn't been able to provide any evidence for his view and Gene had decided to stick with his instincts. The plan, with Smithy at the centre, was agreed, although Ray's reluctance had been clear.

Gene checked his watch – five fifteen – and reached out to snag a bottle of scotch from the sideboard. He poured himself a small one and swallowed it down, pondering his decision to focus the team's resources on Horseshoe Smithy. In the old days he'd never have wavered, would have stuck to his decision with confidence and swagger, banishing any niggling doubts or worries. But now, with the world changing too fast around him, the old certainties brushed away in favour of paperwork, box-ticking and bureaucracy, he found he couldn't help but second guess himself, faltering slightly over the rightness of his decision.

"Bollocks to this," he mumbled, setting his whiskey tumbler next to his tea mug for the cleaner to deal with. "You know you're right. You'll prove it tomorrow." He shrugged into his jacket, wondering whether it was too early to head over to Alex's. Five twenty. Not too early.

~ x ~

"Alex! You there?"

"Bedroom." Alex looked up from the pile of laundry she was sorting on the bed, smiling as she saw Gene appear in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and he'd kicked off his boots and socks. She swallowed. "Um. Good day?"

"Usual. How about you?"

"Good, actually. No painkillers at all today, and the doc's signed off on me going back to work. Now all I need is somewhere to go back to." She raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Yeah, yeah. Signed the papers. Should be straightforward now. You'll be back on someone else's beat soon as."

"Thanks, Gene." Alex finished putting the laundry away and sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him.

"Alex." He paused, looking at the floor for a moment. "Are you absolutely sure you want to move? It's not too late, you know…"

Alex sighed and held a hand out towards him, smiling as he caught it, taking a seat next to her on the bed. "We've been through this, Gene. I'm not going to change my mind." She lifted his hand to her lips and brushed a kiss into his palm. This thing with Gene, whatever it was, she wanted it to work. More than she'd admitted to him. More, even, than she'd admitted to herself. And she just wasn't sure how they'd manage their personal relationship if they had to spend all day together in the office. Didn't think she'd be able to switch between being subordinate at work and equal partner at home. A transfer seemed the only solution.

"Fine," Gene nodded, his thumb tracing small patterns at the small of her back. If that's what it took to keep them together, then that's what would happen. He didn't have to like it but he could get used to not seeing her face every day at work, as long as he got to see it every night at home. And every morning.

Closing his eyes, he felt his body respond as she cupped his chin, her fingers making small circles along his jaw. He could smell her perfume, feel the heat from her skin. Turning towards her, he dipped his face to hers, taking her lips in a slow, gentle kiss.

He held her face carefully in his hands, running his tongue across her lips, capturing her sighs of pleasure, echoing them with his own. It had been weeks, now. Weeks of exploration, of learning about each other, what they liked, what they wanted. They each knew every square inch of the other's body, every curve and dip and freckle, and yet it still felt as fresh, as mind-blowing as the first time. He wondered whether he'd ever tire of touching her, tasting her. Feathering his fingers down the column of her neck, across her shoulder, he eased her gently down to the bed, moving to lie alongside her. "Beautiful, Alex," he murmured, undoing the buttons on her blouse one by one, revealing her creamy flesh to his heated gaze. He nuzzled at her throat, tugging her blouse free of her trousers, pushing it from her shoulders, down her arms.

"Mmm, Gene," Alex sighed, lifting her hips as she wriggled out of her jeans and knickers. "Love how you touch me."

Raising himself above her, he flicked the clasp on her bra, drawing it away, dropping it on the floor. He lowered his head, sucking gently at the sensitive curve where her breast met her ribcage, licking a slow path towards the taut bud. Taking it into his mouth, he dragged his tongue across the tip, smiling as he felt her squirm beneath him. "Taste so good, Alex," he whispered against her breast, his warm breath teasing the wet peak, and he watched as it tightened even further.

She reached out to catch her fingers in his hair, pulling him back up for a long, deep kiss. Wrapping a leg around him, she could feel his cock pressing hard against her, and she raised her hips to meet him, curling into him. "You're still dressed," she pouted, breathing heavily as she dragged her hands to his waist, smoothing them beneath his shirt, across his skin.

"Can't have that," he breathed, tugging his shirt over his head, rolling away from her for a moment to shed his trousers and boxers. She sighed as she took in his naked body, feeling her own body respond, a pulse beginning to beat heavily between her legs. Running a hand down his chest, over his belly, she took his cock in her hand, marvelling anew at his strength and power. He closed his eyes as she brought her mouth to him, stretching her lips around his hard flesh, sucking slowly, her hand pumping lazily at the base. "More, please," he pleaded, his hips flexing to meet her mouth, his fingers making tangles in her hair.

She continued to tease him, pulling away just enough that she could run her tongue around his tip, sneaking it across his most sensitive places, holding him firm as his hips tilted towards her. "Alex," he gasped, "want you." He flipped her over to her back, settling himself between her thighs, staring down, into her passion-glazed eyes.

"Gene," she murmured, linking her ankles at the small of his back, curving her body up to his. "Now, please."

"God, yes." He groaned as he slipped a hand between them, dipping a finger into her centre, feeling her slickness, her heat. Swirling his finger around her clit, he couldn't hold back as she bit down on his shoulder, and he pushed into her, filling her completely, pausing deep within her for a moment as she trembled beneath him.

She moaned against his throat, pulling him closer, until his body was pressed along the length of hers, his hips rocking against her, small movements that sent her into freefall. "Oh, Gene, more," she cried, tightening one arm around his back, pulling on his hip with the other.

Sweat beaded on Gene's body, he couldn't hold on for much longer. Grunting into her neck, he thrust deeper, pulling out to the tip then thrusting hard again. Every nerve on fire, blood pounding through his body, he held her tight as he felt her crash around him. He heard her call his name but then nothing as he was deaf to all but the pleasure of exploding into her, filling her, wanting it to last forever.

After a minute, his strength gradually returning, he rolled over to his back, pulling Alex into the crook of his shoulder as he went. This part still terrified him. The exposure, the vulnerability. He wasn't sure he'd ever be comfortable with the way she made him feel, but maybe what he needed was more practice. Yeah, he could live with that.

Alex looked up at him, smiling. Her body still hummed, tingling from the impact of his touch. She'd never felt anything like this, never expected to find it with Gene, but she revelled in the heat in his gaze, the tenderness in his fingertips. She placed a kiss against his chest, listening to his heart as she lay close by. "Nice day at the office, dear?"

"Bit short on DIs, but otherwise okay." He stretched, hugging her tight, words of love and longing just moments from escape. Breathing in quickly, he gave her a final squeeze before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Got anything planned for supper?"

Rolling her eyes, she told him he could help himself to anything he fancied from the kitchen, and he could get her something too while he was at it. He told her he'd fetch something up from Luigi's.

By the time he was back she'd showered and changed into leggings and a soft, comfortable jumper. He transferred the meals from foil containers to plates, bringing them through to the living room, picking up a bottle of red as he went. They ate off their laps, sitting comfortably together on the sofa, chatting about nothing, quietly enjoying each other's company. At the end of their meal he cleared away their plates, returning with a tumbler of scotch for him and a mug of hot chocolate for Alex. She took it gratefully and snuggled against him, mellow from the wine and the company.

Gene downed the scotch and turned his face into Alex's hair. He took a deep breath, enjoying her smell, before asking softly, "Alex, love. Tell me about Molly."

He felt her stiffen alongside him and immediately regretted his question. "S'all right if you don't want to talk about it. You don't have to."

"No," she said slowly. "No, it's fine."

She felt him curl an arm around her, holding her close. So many lies already; she didn't want to add any more. But how could she explain about Molly in a way that he would understand? She took a breath. "The thing is, I – well, I just don't know where Molly is."

"You don't know?"

Alex picked at the fabric on the arm of the sofa. "We've been apart for about eighteen months now. Since just before I came to Fenchurch East, in fact."

"I don't understand. Can't you look for her? Find her?"

"I've been looking ever since you've known me. But I couldn't tell you, couldn't tell anyone. Kept it secret because I didn't want to jeopardise my chances of being with her again."

Gene paused. "You didn't think I could help you?"

"Believe me, if I'd thought you could help, I'd have asked you." She looked at the floor. "It's no use, Gene. No one can help me. Not even you."

"I don't understand. You're trying to find her on your own? How do you know she's all right?"

"That's just it, Gene," she said sadly. "I don't."

He gave a small nod, his lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. "Is that why you used to act like such a fruitcake? Worried about your daughter?"

"Yes, I think that's probably true." She laid her head on his shoulder, linking his fingers with hers.

Gene shook his head. "Must've been hard for you."

"Was. Is, still." She took a moment to gather herself and Gene waited, his arm tightening gently around her. "I miss her. Even now I miss her, like a physical pain every day."

"I don't really understand this, Alex. There's more that you're not telling me."

She squeezed his hand. "The thing is, I haven't given up, Gene. I can't tell you everything because I still hope that somehow, God knows how, somehow I'll be able to find her again. And you've got to understand that I'll never stop looking. If I ever get the chance to be with Molly again I'll grab it without looking back. Even if that means I can't stay here, with you."

His face remained impassive although he gave a tight nod. "Is this why you keep banging on about leaving? Because you keep thinking you've found a way to be with your daughter?"

She suddenly saw how difficult it must have been for him, her continual failure to commit to her life in the eighties, and she turned his face towards hers, her eyes intent. "It's taken me a long time to accept that I might never see her again. That I might have to continue here without her." She touched a finger to his lip. "I won't stop hoping, stop trying to find her. But now, I'm not going to let it stop me living a full life while I'm waiting."

"I know you'll always put your daughter first Alex," he whispered. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But none of that stops you from doing this." He brushed the slightest of kisses across her lips, pulling her close.

**To be continued - next and final chapter up very soon :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Starting over – chapter 9**

Ray didn't like it. He sat alone in a booth at the Six Bells, watching Carter and Smithy standing together at the bar. Carter was confident, expansive, his arms flung wide. By contrast, Smithy seemed small, cautious, drumming his fingers against his leg, fiddling anxiously with a beer mat. Ray didn't like it at all.

The thing was, the Guv hadn't been the same lately. Not since the Chris Skelton disaster, the stupid bloody mess about Supermac. Ray didn't want to think that the Guv'd lost it, but as he watched the two targets he couldn't help but wonder.

Of course, it wasn't the Chris thing, or even Supermac, that had sent the Guv over the edge. It was Drake. Shooting Drake had been the single most devastating action the Guv had ever done and for a moment Ray hadn't been sure whether the Guv'd make it through. For a moment, Ray hadn't cared. Luckily Drake had pulled through, cleared the Guv's name about the shooting, but Ray wasn't sure she'd really forgiven him. He couldn't say he blamed her.

So it was hardly surprising, all things considered, that the Guv's judgement might not be everything it used to be. And Ray was increasingly certain that the Guv was wrong about this evening's operation.

Lighting a cigarette, Ray shifted a little in his booth, making sure he could still see Carter and Smithy on the other side of the pub. Their demeanour had changed, their heads were closer together, sweat now breaking out on Smithy's brow.

No way was Smithy the brains behind this deal. Why couldn't the Guv see it? Ray was sure that the focus should be on Carter, but no amount of discussing it had changed the Guv's mind. And now the deadline for the deal was approaching and the agreed strategy was arse-about-face wrong.

He looked up from the booth at the sound of the door to the gents clicking closed. The Guv wandered back to their table, sitting down alongside Ray. "Any sign of Sniffer?"

"Not yet, Guv." Ray stared down into his pint.

"Still early. Although I see our friends are starting to look a bit worried."

"Aye, Guv." Smithy and Carter were huddled close at the bar, their gazes now bouncing nervously around the room, at the door, at each other. "We all set?"

Gene patted his pocket and nodded. Their intel was that the deal would take place in the rear car park, with Sniffer offloading a couple of pounds of Class As to Smithy and Carter. Chris was sitting with another DC at a table on the other side of the pub, following his instructions and keeping an eye on Carter. Gene and Ray sat together in the booth, talking quietly, waiting for signs of action.

At about 8.45, Smithy put his empty pint glass on the bar and nodded to Carter. He shrugged into a jacket and made his way towards the pub's front door. Gene nudged Ray, hoping he'd get the message – their target was on the move – but Ray was reluctant to follow, wanting to keep an eye on Carter instead. "Move it," hissed Gene, pushing past Ray to follow Smithy himself.

At that moment, Ray made a decision. The Guv was wrong. Carter was the force behind this deal and Ray wasn't going to leave him to Chris to deal with. In any case, their intel was that the deal would be in the rear car park and Smithy had gone out the front door. Ray remained seated, watching as Carter waited at the bar, calmly sipping his pint and chewing on a pork scratching.

At the sound of the first gunshot, Ray slammed his pint on the table, heartbeat racing. He raced to the back door, where the sound had come from, Chris following close behind. He paused for a moment as he heard a second shot ring out, then took a deep breath and pushed through the pub's rear door.

The scene in the car park was confusing at first. Two men were grappling near the pub wall and another was lying nearby on the floor, groaning and clutching his leg.

After a moment, Ray realised that the man on the floor was Smithy and that Gene was trying to overpower Sniffer McHarris. Ray ran across to Gene, shouting to Chris to get cuffs on Smithy, pulling Sniffer off Gene and laying a strike across his jaw, smiling grimly as he heard the bones crunch.

Looking up, he saw that Chris had managed to cuff Smithy to a drainpipe. "Chris," he shouted, "get inside and pick up Carter." He grabbed Sniffer and pulled his hands behind his back, snapping handcuffs around his wrists. Sniffer dropped to the floor beside Gene, spitting out blood. Gene struggled to his feet, breathing heavily, a look of anger on his face.

"Where were you, Ray?"

Ray stood his ground. "I thought I should stick with Carter."

Biting out a frustrated sigh, Gene muttered, "I needed you here. Smithy took a shot at me before I could make the arrest." For the first time, Ray noticed that the side of Gene's shirt was smeared with blood. He blinked.

"You all right?"

Gene looked down at his side and shrugged. "Just a flesh wound," he said, wincing. "Managed to get a round off at Smithy but then our friend Sniffer here joined in." He gave Sniffer a half-hearted kick before fixing Ray with an intensely angry stare.

Ray swallowed and looked at the floor. "Carter just didn't seem the type to lead a deal like this one, Guv. Didn't want to leave him in the back with Chris."

Gene shook his head, watching as Chris brought a handcuffed Carter through to the car park. "You were wrong, though, Ray. And this op was just a couple of inches from being a complete bloody disaster." He turned to Chris. "Get an ambulance for Smithy, make sure you stay with him at the hospital. Give Carter to uniform to bring in. Ray and I will take care of Sniffer." But Ray had gone, the door swinging behind him as he left.

~ x ~

Alex asked Luigi for a glass of white and sat back on her stool to await the arrival of the team. She knew about the op planned for that evening and hoped it had gone well. She'd miss that part of the job when she transferred to a new division.

She remembered back to her conversation with Gene about Molly. All in all, she thought, he'd taken it incredibly well. Perhaps she'd underestimated him. Wouldn't be the first time. Alex still dwelt for longer than she wanted to on thoughts of Molly, the longing now more a dull ache than a sharp stab but painful nonetheless. She smiled at the memory of her daughter's smile, the softness of her touch. She would leave Gene without question for the chance to be with her daughter again. But, she was realising, the separation from Gene behind would be almost as painful as the loss of her daughter.

Pushing aside her melancholy thoughts, she looked up and smiled as Shaz and Chris made their way through the restaurant towards her. "Evening, Ma'am," Chris greeted, sitting on a stool next to her and pulling his girl into the crook of his arm.

"Chris, Shaz, nice to see you. How'd it go this evening? Where's the Guv?"

Shaz and Chris glanced at each other. Chris gave Shaz's arm a squeeze before turning to Luigi to place his drinks order. Alex looked at Shaz, a niggle of worry beginning to worm its way through her. "Shaz?"

"He's in hospital. He should be back any minute."

"Hospital?" Alex reached out to the bar for support. "What do you mean? What happened?" Why didn't he tell me?

"There was a problem with the op. The Guv got shot. But they said he'll be fine, just a graze really."

Shot. Gene, shot. Alex struggled to process the words, barely aware of the odd look that Shaz was giving her. "Well, where is he? I want to see him. When can I see him?"

Shaz looked a little confused. "I don't know, Ma'am. Like I said, he'll probably be here in a bit."

Trying to pull herself together, Alex sent Shaz a tight smile. "Yes. Of course. He'll be here in a bit." She watched as Chris picked up his drinks and led Shaz across to a nearby table.

He'd be fine. Shaz said so, just a graze. Nothing serious. Alex's mind raced as she tried to remember what she'd said to him as he'd left the flat that morning. Had she been nice to him? Kissed him goodbye?

She knew he'd be fine, that any minute he'd walk through the door and be the same old Guv that she knew and lov– hold on a moment. Just hold it right there. Was that it? They'd never talked about their relationship, taking every day as it came, enjoying each moment but making no assumptions about the future. In a moment of clarity, Alex knew that would no longer be enough. The thought of Gene being injured, maybe even killed, was enough to make her understand her feelings, and she had an almost palpable urge to tell him.

Where the hell was he? She tapped her foot against the leg of her stool, try to relieve her nervous energy. He might not feel the same but she had to let him know. Owed it to herself, to him. Needing to feel close to him, she left her glass on the bar and headed out of the restaurant, hurrying across the road to CID, certain that he'd visit the office before going to Luigi's.

She was disappointed when she saw the squad room empty, just a few lamps humming quietly on untidy desks. Sighing, she made her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and resigning herself to a lengthy wait. She was just dropping the soggy teabag into the bin when she sensed someone standing in the door frame. Looking up, her smile faltered only a fraction when she saw it was Ray.

He looked surprised to see her. "Ma'am. What you doing here?"

"Just looking for the Guv. Thought he might pop in here before going over the road."

Ray nodded slowly. "He's not there yet then?"

"No. Shaz said she thought he was still in hospital." Alex paused but her curiosity got the better of her. "What happened, Ray? How did the Guv come to be shot?"

Ray sighed and slumped against the worktop. "Were my fault, Ma'am."

"What do you mean? How could it be your fault?" She took a seat at the small table, gesturing that he should join her.

He slunk into the chair, shoulders sagging, head in his hands. "I disobeyed a direct order. Followed my own instinct instead of the Guv's. And the Guv got shot as a result." Ray groaned. "If Horseshoe Smithy'd had a better aim, the Guv might not have survived to give me the bollocking that he's probably planning, even as we speak."

"You haven't spoken to him yet?"

Ray sighed. "I didn't know what to do. Left the scene, went for a walk, clear my head. Haven't seen him since."

Alex put a sympathetic hand on his arm but her mind was whirring. "Why, Ray? Why would you be second-guessing the Guv after all these years?"

Ray gave her a look. "Come on, Ma'am. You know yourself, it's not like he's been on the ball recently. Why should we all just do what he says without questioning it?"

Alex asked quietly, "What do you mean, I know myself? You're not making any sense."

Looking faintly embarrassed, Ray muttered, "Well, we've all heard the rumours that you want to transfer out. Can't say I blame you after what the Guv did. You don't want to work with him any more, and I'm not sure I do either."

~ x ~

Gene pushed quietly through the double doors into the dark squad room. His side ached a little but he really had been very lucky – the bullet had nicked him but hadn't caused any serious damage, nothing that a few painkillers couldn't deal with. It probably helped that his professional confidence had made a welcome return, his instinct on Carter and Smithy having been spot on. There was the hint of a spring in his step as he strolled between the desks, wanting to pick up the file on the arrests and then get over the road to Luigi's. He intended to persuade Alex to make it an early night and have her kiss him better.

Half way to his office, he made out the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. He could tell who they belonged to but couldn't quite catch what they were saying. What was Alex doing here? And talking to that bloody idiot? He reached the door frame, peered in, but Ray and Alex were intent on their conversation and didn't notice him there.

"… You don't want to work with him any more, and I'm not sure I do either."

Instinctively Gene pulled back, out of their sight but within their hearing. It was wrong, all shades of wrong, but he'd been a detective more than half his life and old habits died hard. As he listened, he could hear the smile in Alex's voice as she said, "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"Not sure about that, Ma'am," Ray replied gruffly. "You are transferring, aren't you?"

"I am. But –"

"So you don't have to be loyal to him any more. You can say what you really think."

"You're right. I can."

Go on, Alex, Gene thought to himself. Tell him what you really think. Tell me.

He heard her take a deep breath. "The thing is, Ray." She paused. "The thing is, I'm not transferring out of Fenchurch East because I don't trust the Guv. I do, I trust him completely. I'd trust him with my life." In the shadows, Gene smiled. That's my girl. Alex continued, "I'm transferring because – well – because our personal relationship makes it impossible for me to stay."

Ray sounded confused. "But that's exactly my point. Ma'am."

Exasperated, Alex blurted, "No, you don't understand. Our personal relationship. Our–" she paused significantly – "_very_ _personal_ relationship."

Sweat began prickling across Gene's body. He should let them know he was there. He didn't move.

"What personal relationship? Since when?"

"Since a few weeks ago. Just after the shooting."

It was quiet for a moment and Gene could almost hear the cogs turning. Eventually Ray stuttered, "You mean you… and the Guv… you're… you know."

"Yes Ray. We are 'you know'."

"But, why?" asked Ray faintly.

"Why?" She paused. "Because he's Gene. Because he's the Manc Lion. Because, and I can hardly believe I'm saying this myself, but because, well, apparently, I love him."

Gene swallowed hard then clapped his hands together, striding through the doorway. He saw Ray and Alex jump slightly, Ray staring down at his hands, Alex putting a hand to her hair. He stared at them. "Right then, you two. Bolls, don't go away, I want a word with you. But not until I've strung this one up by his short and curlies. Carling, my office, now."

"Right Guv," Ray signed, resigned. Gene followed Ray through to his office, his mind not wholly focused on the dressing down he needed to give Ray. He went through the motions, gave Ray a verbal warning for disobeying orders, all the while aware of Alex sitting at her desk, half watching as she rifled through files, chewed at the lid on a pen.

Eventually, after he thought even Ray must have got the message, he walked across to the door of his office and opened it, signalling for Ray to go through. Ray paused in the doorway, nodding towards Alex then back at Gene. "You and DI Drake," he said quietly. He waggled his eyebrows. "You did well there, Guv. Never knew you had it in you."

Gene narrowed his eyes. "Don't push your luck." Smirking a little, Ray shrugged into his jacket and headed for home.

Flicking off the light, Gene paused for a moment before closing his office door behind him. Alex was still at her desk. She looked up at him, an open smile on her face, and Gene felt something dislodge inside him. He felt lighter, suddenly. Like himself, but better. He swallowed. He didn't want to screw this up.

"So, Guv," Alex smiled, tapping her pen against the corner of her mouth. "You wanted to see me?"

"Always, Inspector." He covered the short distance to her desk and sat on the edge, drawing her up to join him, pulling her between his legs, into his arms.

"You're all right, then? The shooting?" Cupping his jaw in her fingers, she looked at him intently, smoothing her thumb along his lower lip. She smiled as he turned his head and dropped a kiss against her palm.

"Really, I'm fine. Small bruise. Nothing to worry about."

"Good," she nodded. "I'm glad. I was worried."

He pulled back a little so he could see her face clearly. "Were you now?"

"I was. Very." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "When I heard you were shot, I just wanted to find you, make sure you were okay."

"I thought I'd be out of hospital sooner than I managed or I'd have called you. You shouldn't have worried. Take more than a tiny little bullet to take out the Gene Genie."

She frowned up at him. "Didn't sound like a tiny little bullet wound to me. You had to go to hospital. And I might remind you that I've had my own direct experience of the damage a tiny little bullet can do."

Softening, he pulled her a little closer. "I know. And I'm sorry you worried. You needn't have."

"Can't help it." She nuzzled into his neck. "You sure you're not hurt?"

"Am fine. Taken so many painkillers I'm rattling, but fine." If she carried on nibbling his neck like that he wouldn't be able to walk out of the office.

Wrapping her arms around him, she edged closer, feeling him pressing hard against her stomach. She felt herself heating from the centre, warm to her fingers and toes. Edging her mouth along his jaw, she took his lips in hers, teasing gently with her tongue, reassuring herself about his taste, his feel beneath her fingers. Whispering against his mouth, she asked, "Do you want to take this back to my place?"

"Oh, I do, Bolly," he groaned. "But listen. I, um. I heard you talking to Ray. Just now."

He saw confusion, then wariness, cloud her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I know you told him about us."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She looked down, biting slightly at her lip. "I know I should have talked to you about it first, but he really didn't understand what had been going on and I just wanted to get him back on side. Make him see that if I could get over the thing with you shooting me, then he certainly should."

"It's all right, Bolls. I don't mind that you told him. Happy about it, in fact."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I? I don't like hiding things, Alex. Our private life is private, but I don't like sneaking around." He cleared his throat. "I'm proud to be seen with you."

"Me too, Gene." She squeezed his arm.

Looking at the floor, he mumbled, "I heard the other thing too."

Her heart began to beat a little faster. "Other thing?"

"What you said to Ray. About why you were with me." This was excruciating. Why was he so bad at this?

"Oh." She bit her lip. "That thing."

He swallowed. "And I just wanted to say, good. And, me too."

"You too?" Smiling, she looked up at him, saw him looking at the ceiling. She pulled his head down to hers, pressing her lips against his mouth. "Thank you, Gene," she murmured. She knew this was hard for him, was a huge admission, and it might not be wine and roses but it was good enough for her. In fact, it was perfect.

"Right then," he smirked, pulling himself together. "Didn't you just offer to entertain me in your delightful boudoir? Let's get to it, Inspector." She yelped as he hit her smartly on the behind, giggling as she led him from the office back to her place. Perfect.

- **The End -**

_AN - thank you so much for everyone's kind comments, reviews and favouriting. I hope you've enjoyed this fic - I've certainly enjoyed writing it. Who knows, maybe I'll return with an epilogue at some point..._

_Louella x_


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